


The Babysitter

by MrsWhozeewhatsis (OxfordCommaLover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Episode 11.22 We Happy Few, Eventual Smut, F/M, Smut, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 116,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordCommaLover/pseuds/MrsWhozeewhatsis
Summary: The Winchester boys have been your life since the first time you babysat them when you were 15. Their father was the standard against which you compared all other men. After he died, you kept going for your boys, giving them everything. Now, ten years later, he’s back and you’ve changed. Will things be different this time?Although this is a John fic, there is a lot of Dean and Sam, too. (So much Weechesters!!) This story is canon-compliant up to about episode 11.22 - We Happy Few and diverges from there.





	1. 1984

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for over a year. It started at my NaNoWriMo fic in 2016, and I picked it back up for NaNoWriMo this year. It is finally finished, and I can’t wait to hear what you all think of it! Special thanks to @manawhaat and @nitelotus who both read this entire monster and gave me invaluable help and encouragement, as well as put up with me angsting about it. 
> 
> This story has a lot of flashbacks, which will be in italics, and the year of each flashback will be at the start so you don’t get confused.

_1984_

_“Something killed his wife, and almost took the baby. He’s in bad shape, Patrick. He needs a firm hand with a gentle touch, and someone to watch the kids. I got no problem with the older boy, but I don’t know anything about diapers,” Bobby said._

_“Y/N’s been working at a daycare the past few months to earn spending money. She’s been doing real good there, too. She’ll be good with the kids, and Nancy and me can take care of the dad. Between the three of us, we’ll find the son of a bitch that killed his wife lickety split and get them back to being a normal family before they get sucked in too far. You’ve got my word, Bobby.”_

_“I know, Patrick. You’re good people.”_

_You came around the corner, then, to see your dad and Bobby clinking the necks of their beer bottles together. Your dad pulled you under his arm and gave you a good squeeze._

_“Hey, munchkin, how do you feel about babysitting a 1-year old and a 5-year old for a few days here at Bobby’s while your mom and I teach their dad a thing or two?”_

_You shrugged. “I already quit the daycare since school’s out and I figured I’d be on the road with you guys full time, anyway. I can handle a couple of kids, especially with Bobby here to lend a hand if I need it.”_

_Your dad smiled. “Good girl. I knew we could count on you.”_

_The rumbling sound of an older car grew as tires hit gravel. By the time the car stopped, you could feel the vibrations of the engine in the floorboards beneath your feet. You went to the door to see who the newcomer was while your dad continued chatting with Bobby. Out of the car stepped the tallest man you’d ever seen, all dark hair and stubbly beard with his shoulders slumped so low you thought he must have the weight of the world resting on them. He glanced at the house with tired eyes, and you thought about what you’d heard Bobby say about his wife._

_The stranger opened the rear door of the car and reached in, giving your teenage hormones a terrific view of his ass. You mentally slapped yourself for even having the thought. The man just lost his wife and you’re staring at his ass? You were raised better than that! He pulled a little tow-headed boy out of the car and set him on the ground near his feet. The boy stayed exactly where his father had put him, his eyes on his dad the whole time. The man reached farther into the car and emerged with a baby in his arms. He said something to the boy, and the boy climbed back in the car, coming back out with a diaper bag almost as big as he was. The man shut the car door, and the trio approached the house._

_You opened the door for them, trying not to stare. The father was drop-dead gorgeous and his children were beautiful._

_“Hey, Bobby. Got somewhere I can take care of Sammy? I think he dropped a bomb in his diaper about an hour ago. Been driving with the windows down ever since.”_

_You stepped up, thinking that this man probably just needed a break. “I can take care of him for you, if you want. I’ve been watching kids from newborns to 10 years old at a daycare, so I know all the tricks.”_

_The man looked at your outstretched hands with hesitation, then looked at Bobby._

_“John, this is Y/N. She’s Patrick and Nancy’s daughter. She’s 15, and raised in the life, so she knows about protection. I’ve known her since she was ten. They’re good people, John. They’re willing to help.”_

_Your dad waved since John’s hands were full. “Nice to meet you, John. My wife and I want to help you, and Y/N is great with kids. You’ll all be in good hands with us, I promise.”_

_John looked you over suspiciously, then glanced at Bobby and your dad again before slowly handing little Sammy over to you. You got hit with the smell of poopy diaper right away and made a face._

_“Lord, you weren’t lyin’. I’ll get him cleaned up and smelling like Heaven in no time, sir.” Securing Sammy in your arms, you looked at his brother. “And what’s your name?”_

_The little boy stood stock still next to his father, staring at you even more suspiciously than his father had, but didn’t say a word._

_“That’s Dean. He doesn’t say much these days.”_

_Looking down at Dean, you motioned for the diaper bag. “Hey there, Dean. Mind if I take that bag off your hands so I can go change your brother?”_

_Dean gripped the bag tighter and shook his head._

_“Dean, let her have the bag or Sammy’s gonna start screaming bloody murder soon.” John scolded. “Not to mention he’s stinkin’ up the joint.”_

_Dean was still staring at you, holding his brother. He reminded you of one of the kids in the daycare who had also been through a lot and wouldn’t let his little sister out of his sight._

_“It’s okay. I bet Dean would rather come with me and help me, anyway. Isn’t that right, Dean?”_

_Dean nodded, but still wouldn’t take his eyes off of you._

_“Okie dokie, Dean, then follow me and we’ll get your brother all cleaned up.” In the corner of your eye, you watched as Dean followed you, never taking his eyes off of you and his brother. As you settled in the living room, Dean handed you the diaper bag, and you changed Sam’s diaper with Dean’s eagle eyes never leaving you. When Sam tried to squirm, Dean sat down on the floor by his head and played with his fingers to distract him while you finished the job. Once Sammy was all clean, you packed everything away again and looked at Dean._

_“Thank you so much for helping me, Dean. I bet you’re great at taking care of your brother, aren’t you?”_

_Dean nodded, helping his little brother get to his feet. Sammy stood next to Dean, reaching out and smiling at his brother, babbling, “De! De! De!”_

_Dean gave his little brother a rough smile that broke your heart. “Yeah, Sammy. That’s me.”_

_With a tentative hand, you reached out and brushed some dirt off of Dean’s sleeve. “You mind if I help you take care of your brother for a while?”_

_The little boy nodded, but said nothing._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Present Day, 2016 (around episode 11.22 We Happy Few, canon-divergent from there), Chuck has a plan to defeat Amara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm high on all of the excitement for this story after just the first chapter, so you get another chapter!

"If we're going to war, we're going to need an army."

Chuck's words, well, God’s words, rang in your ears as you watched him snap his fingers then open the door in the back of library over and over again. Each time, another loved one from days past walked through the door like it was some kind of twisted version of _This Is Your Life_ for the Winchesters. Charlie, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Pamela, Rufus...and then John and Mary.

You held tight to Charlie as you watched your boys hug each newcomer with tears in their eyes until those tears fell on their mother's shoulders. Truth be told, there were tears on more than just Winchester cheeks as she held her boys.

Even though the focus was primarily on the Winchesters, seeing all of your old friends hit you hard, too. Bobby had been like a father to you after yours had passed, Ellen had helped you when your parents died on a hunt, and Charlie had been your best friend. With Mary standing right next to him, you tried not to think about what John had once meant to you. Your schoolgirl crush was nothing compared to their love, and you knew it. Bobby and Rufus had been cranky old men even when you were a teenager, but John had just seemed dark and dangerous, even to a girl who grew up with hunters. A 15-year age difference meant nothing to a hormonal 17-year old who was still looking for her first kiss. It meant even less when you were in your mid-thirties and hunting with John and Dean while Sam was at Stanford. John had never looked at you twice, though, so you had mostly settled for what every other hunter usually settles for: the occasional fun night with a willing stranger. You put those thoughts out of your mind, though, as you hugged John and introduced yourself to his wife.

Once everyone had said their hellos and gotten over Chuck’s true identity, the strategy sessions began. The tables in the library were surrounded by hunters, all tossing ideas and gentle barbs back and forth. The conversation strayed occasionally as stories of hunts and battles past were told, but Chuck always gently nudged everyone back to the matter at hand.

Amara needed to be locked away again.

She couldn’t be killed, since that would throw off the balance of light and dark in the universe, so locking her away again was the only option. Last time, it had taken four archangels to damage her enough for Chuck to be able to defeat her, and there were no archangels available this time. Lucifer was off licking his wounds and causing trouble after declaring that he didn’t need to put up with his father’s lordly ways. Chuck confirmed that Lucifer hadn’t been lying about Michael’s mental state by cracking open the Cage himself and emptying it, moving Adam to his heaven with his mother, and putting Michael in the heavenly equivalent of a rubber room. Raphael and Gabriel were dead, and there wasn’t enough time to remake them. It was decided that angels, demons, witches, and a dozen hunters would have to stand in for the archangels.

When the subject of the Mark came up, Sam beat you by only a fraction of a second when he looked Chuck in the eyes and stated that Dean would not be cursed again. You saw the alarm on both John’s and Mary’s faces, while you and Charlie grabbed each other’s hands.

“You’re right, Sam. Dean won’t bear it again. He can’t. He’s already been tainted by it. It will have to be someone else.”

Chuck’s words echoed around the room as everyone fell silent.

“I’ll do it, then,” Sam said, almost so quietly you didn’t even hear him.

Dean almost flipped the table over when he stood up quickly, towering over his brother as he roared, “No!”

Jo stood up on the other side of Sam, putting an arm out to calm Dean. You and Charlie both swallowed audibly and stared across the table at Sam as he kept his gaze steady on Chuck. No one saw Bobby at the other end of the room almost drop his glass of whiskey on the table in disgust.

“Sit down, ya idjits, no one here is falling on this particular sword again while I have a say in it.”

Dean glared at Bobby with a desperation anyone could see. There’s no way he would let Bobby do it, either. Sam glanced back and forth between Bobby and Dean, and you could almost read his thoughts. He wasn’t going to allow anyone else to do this if he could do it for them. Your heart swelled with love for the whole group of self-sacrificing morons, but it was overwhelmed by the fear that you’d lose another one of them to the curse all over again.

“I mean it, Dean, sit your ass down. There’s a better option.”

Dean and Jo both sat back down while Bobby squirmed with the sudden attention all focused on him. Looking around at everyone, he finally blurted out, “Lucifer, you dumbasses! We need to lock the Devil away, anyway, why not put the damn Mark back on him before we do it?”

Chuck was the only one who seemed to dislike the idea, but he said nothing against it. Thus, the plan was born.

While Dean went to Crowley to enlist the aid of the demons, Sam went to Rowena to sign up the witches, Chuck went to Heaven to enlist help there, and you were in charge of managing all the humans. Charlie helped you go on a supply run, and Mary offered to help you put together a meal for everyone.

“I got everything we need for burgers and salads, since I figured that was easiest. Do you want to tackle the meat or the veggies?” you asked, trying to organize all of the ingredients on the counter.

Mary smiled nervously. “To be honest, I don’t cook, so whatever’s easier.” She gave you a shy smile as you stared at her in awe.

“Dean has talked about your meatloaf and your pie!”

Mary chuckled. “The Piggly Wiggly was a lifesaver!” she said with a shrug and a smile.

Once you were both laughing, you gave her what she’d need to make the salad while you began working on the burgers. You worked in companionable silence for a couple of minutes before Mary sighed, dropped her hands, and looked at you, making you squirm.

“I hear that you’ve been taking care of my boys for a long time.”

Heat rushed to your face as you remembered the thoughts you’d had for years about how to best take care of her husband. Pushing away those thoughts you concentrated on what she probably meant. “The first time I babysat Dean and Sam, Sam was barely a year old, so I guess you could say that.”

Mary gazed at you for a long time while you kept yourself busy, hands working the hamburger meat into patties while your brain raced, wondering what she was thinking.

Suddenly, Mary’s hand was on your arm, stopping your constant motion. “Then first, I want to thank you for watching out for them all these years.”

Your gaze met hers while your face flushed even hotter. “It’s no big deal, really. We’re hunters. We take care of each other.” Forcing a nervous smile, you tried to focus on the meat in your hands while Mary went back to chopping.

After a couple of minutes with only the sound of Mary’s knife hitting the cutting board echoing through the kitchen, Mary paused again. “Can you tell me about them? I mean, John and I did a lot of talking while we were together in Heaven, but I’d love to hear it from a woman’s perspective. Tell me how you met them. Tell me how you came to live with them here. Can you fill in some of the blanks for me?”

You gave Mary a long look, then smiled and nodded. “Sure. As long as we talk while we chop,” you joked, pointing at the pile of carrots, mushrooms, and green onions that were still waiting to be prepped.

Mary listened intently as you told her about your life with her sons, from Sam’s diapers to the Apocalypse and beyond. Once you had explained your part in her sons’ lives, you told her about the little things. You told her about how Sam started reading as soon as he was big enough to pick up a book, and how he was fluent in Latin before he hit middle school. You told her about Dean getting in trouble for beating up a kid that was bullying Sam - how brave and loyal he was, even from such a young age. You told her about Sam’s full ride to Stanford and his LSAT score. You told her about Dean rebuilding Baby from the ground up, twice. You told her about how John tried so hard to keep them safe, even if it meant leaving them with you or Bobby or Pastor Jim, or even on their own.

Your talk was interrupted by Charlie coming in to ask when the food would be ready, quickly followed by Dean and John, who had the same question. Sam followed shortly after, looking for the rest of his family. Charlie stepped in to help you, and you shared a look with her as you watched the Winchesters interact with each other. You’d never seen your boys happier, and it made you both grin like idiots.


	3. 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're babysitting the boys when something comes after them.

_1985_

_John had called you in to babysit the boys while he was hunting a siren at Daytona Beach. “I guess even monsters like to go to Florida for Spring Break,” he said with a laugh._

_The first night you stayed over, you shared your bed with Sam while John slept with Dean. You spent most of the night acutely aware that the eldest Winchester was mere feet away from you, snoring softly. The scene was almost domestic, if only you were sharing your bed with him instead of his almost two-year-old son. Part of you wondered if things would be different if the kids weren’t there._

_Yeah, things would be different. You wouldn’t be there, either._

_You heaved a sigh and carefully turned over, putting your back to the manly snores and trying not to think about the man making them. Not that the man would ever look at you twice. Your 16_ _ th _ _birthday was coming up, and you were in tenth grade. A man, a real man like John Winchester, wouldn’t want a baby like you. He wouldn’t want a kid who still had worries about algebra homework and hadn’t even been kissed, yet. He wouldn’t want a virgin._

_Plans to fix what was so very wrong with you filled your mind. You’d be at a new school after John came back for the boys. Maybe it was time to reinvent yourself. Stop being the quiet girl who doesn’t even try to make friends because she’s gonna leave again soon. Maybe if you go the other way, pretend like you’re not the freak you are, pretend you put out, maybe then someone would notice you long enough to help you get rid of your virginity. You fell asleep thinking about different ways to get what you wanted._

_John left early the next morning, kissing his boys goodbye and handing you enough cash to feed you all for the next two weeks. The door closed, and you turned around to face your charges. Sammy cried and pulled at his diaper, making you sigh. If you were serious about your plans from the night before, you’d better add buying condoms to your prep list._

_The first day went by slowly. Until it didn’t._

_There was a loud knock on the door right after you’d put Sammy down for his nap. He woke up again with a shrill cry, making you curse the unknown visitor before you even knew who it was._

_“Who is it?” you yelled, picking up Sam to calm him and trying to reassure Dean, who’d also woken up from all the noise._

_“It’s the manager! You owe me for last week!” The voice coming through the door was gruff, sounding like someone who’d smoked for years. Your hackles rose, since John had specifically left you alone with the boys yesterday to go pay for the room._

_“You were paid yesterday to cover the room through the end of the month!”_

_Worry crossed over Dean’s little face, and you sat down on the bed where he’d been sleeping, pulling him into your side to reassure him._

_“I don’t know who you gave that money to, then, little missy, because it sure as hell wasn’t me! I need the hundred you owe me, now, or I’m kicking you all out!”_

_You handed Sam to Dean, and picked up the motel phone, dialing Bobby. “Give me a minute,” you yelled at the door, “I’ll be right out!”_

_Bobby picked up, and you started talking quietly before he even had a chance to say hello._

_“Bobby, John left this morning, and now there’s a guy here saying he’s the manager and we owe him money, but I know John paid up the room until the end of the month. What should I do?”_

_“Give him my number and tell him to call me. If he won’t take no for an answer, show him the business end of your shotgun.”_

_Nodding, even though he couldn’t see it, you turned the mouthpiece of the phone away from you and shouted at the door. “Call my dad and he’ll send you the money! I can give you the number!”_

_The door rattled as the man outside banged on it again, harder this time than before. “I don’t want a fucking phone number, little girl, I want my money!”_

_“Y/N, you got your salt lines down?”_

_“Yeah, Bobby.”_

_“Put the phone down, but don’t hang up. Cock your shotgun and tell him to get lost or you’re calling the cops. If that doesn’t scare him off, shoot him.”_

_Setting the phone down, you grabbed your salt gun and stepped towards the door. Making sure it was good and loud, you cocked the gun. “I’m about to call the cops if you don’t leave!”_

_The banging on the door only increased. “Let me in right now, little girl, or you’re in a world of hurt!”_

_Checking to make sure the chain was on the door, you flipped the lock and opened it just enough to stick the barrel of your shotgun through the crack. In a flash, the man smiled, and then backed up just enough so he could take a run at the door. Before he could get close, you squeezed the trigger, hitting him square in the face and chest with a spray of rock salt._

_The man screamed as the force of the blow sent him backwards a couple of steps, his hands covering his face. As his hands dropped, he pulled wet, sticky lumps of skin with them, leaving a gross layer of raw, pinkish skin underneath._

_Shapeshifter._

_His head raised up, and he growled. “Winchester killed my family, now I kill his!”_

_While the shifter revealed himself and gave his little speech, you reached into the waistband of your jeans and pulled out your Colt. Silver bullets were the norm in your Colt, unlike your shotgun. As he took his first step towards the door, you switched out the shotgun for the Colt. While he was taking his second step, you shot him twice, right through the heart._

_The man fell down, took one heaving breath, and died._

_Slamming the door shut again, you flipped the lock and rushed back to the phone. “Bobby! It was a shifter! It wanted the boys! It said John killed its family. I killed it. It’s laying outside the door! What should I do, now, Bobby?”_

_“Balls! How much time do you think you have before someone comes running after hearing those shots?”_

_“We’re pretty remote, Bobby. If someone heard, I think they’d be here by now.”_

_Bobby instructed you to hide the body somewhere outside, and told you he’d be there in two hours. When you got off the phone, you checked on the boys. Dean looked frightened, but he was still comforting Sammy, keeping his little brother happy._

_“Dean, I’m gonna go take care of the bad guy and I’ll be right back, ok?”_

_Dean nodded at you, his eyes as big as saucers._

_As quickly as you could, while keeping a constant watch all around you in case the shifter wasn’t alone, you dragged the shifter’s body around the back of the motel, hiding it in some bushes. When you got back to the room, Dean hadn’t moved, his eyes still huge. You washed your hands and sat down next to him, collecting both boys in your arms._

_Dean shivered, keeping a tight hold on his little brother. You squeezed your arms around them both as tightly as you could without suffocating them. “It’s okay, guys. You’re okay.”_

_“De De De De,” Sammy babbled, trying to comfort his brother in his own way._

_“You took care of the bad guy, Y/N?”_

_“Yes, I did, Dean. Nothing is ever gonna hurt you if I have anything to say about it.”_

_Dean looked up at you, his eyes still wide, but with less fear and more awe in them. “Are you a superhero like my dad?”_

_You couldn’t help the smile that erupted on your face. “Well, I hope to be, someday, Dean. I’m still learning, right now.”_

_Dean shifted in your lap so he was facing sideways, Sammy still in his lap, then leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulders. You reached for the remote and turned on the TV, then settled back on the bed, both boys leaning against you. As you felt your own adrenaline rush die down, the same must have happened for the boys, since they fell asleep in your arms. Feeling them both so warm in your arms calmed the shaking that threatened, and soon you were asleep, too._


	4. 1993

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to teen Dean being a teen.

_1993_

_9 years had gone by so quickly. You remembered when Sammy was in diapers and Dean didn’t talk. God, you sometimes regretted convincing Dean to talk to you. Now, he was 14 and wouldn’t shut up._

_“You’re killing me, Smalls!” Dean said after you had sent him into the motel room’s kitchenette to do the dishes._

_“I’m seriously regretting taking you to see that movie. I’m still taller than you, you little pipsqueak, so I hardly qualify to be called ‘Smalls’,” you said, giving yourself an internal count to ten before you gave in to your baser instincts and whacked the boy senseless._

_Sammy, who had just turned ten, was still sweet as pie, and you thanked whatever gods that hadn’t been killed by hunters, yet, for every moment you had with him. He looked up from his homework at you and smiled._

_“Yeah, you’re almost as tall as Dad! We should be calling you Bigs, not Smalls!” Sam giggled as you rolled your eyes._

_“I am not almost as tall as your dad. He still has a few inches on me!” Much to your chagrin, you’d kept having growth spurts until you left your teens, so you were taller than most women. It helped on hunts, when an annoying sheriff or deputy desperately needed to be intimidated, but it really sucked when it came to dating. Not that you dated much. Drooling over John Winchester didn’t count as dating._

_“When am I gonna be old enough to go on hunts with Dad? I’m 14! I’m almost as good a shot as Dad, and I’m still stuck here doing fucking dishes!” Dean splashed the dishwater everywhere as he plopped a plate into the sink._

_“Language, Dean!” you hollered, giving yourself another internal countdown. “If your dad is like mine was, then it won’t be until you’re 18.” You hoped John would be like your dad was, but you doubted it. You’d probably be babysitting Sam alone, soon. Dean already knew how to drive, and you’d be surprised if he hadn’t already had his first beer. The best you could hope for at this point was that he was still a virgin. Considering the way the girls flocked around him at school when you picked him up, that hope was possibly already dashed, too._

_You and Dean grew up nothing alike. Your dad had tried to keep things normal for you as much as possible. You were always socially awkward in high school, constantly reminded of how different you were from all the other kids. Dean seemed to thrive on it, though. You could tell he was already playing off the ‘mysterious stranger’ vibe with girls. You were happy to not actually hunt, to stay behind and do research. Dean was itching to get out there already and get his first kill._

_“Aww, man! Four more years? I could totally take out a werewolf, already, if I wanted to.”_

_“I don’t doubt that, Dean, but until then, you’re stuck here with me doing dishes.”_

_Dean sighed the kind of sigh that can only come from a 14-year old boy who wanted to be grown, already. You finished putting away the leftovers from dinner and sat down next to Sam._

_“How’s the homework?”_

_Sam gave you a sweet smile that melted the temper Dean had created inside of you. “It’s okay, Bigs. This is stuff I learned at my last school, so I already know it. I just have to do the problems.”_

_“Bigs? Is that gonna be a thing from now on?” You ruffled Sammy’s hair and smiled._

_Sam shrugged and smiled. “It’s better than Smalls.”_

_“Yeah, it is,” you chuckled, shaking your head._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another "last night on Earth", the battle, and the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *braces for the screaming*

Over dinner, and then dessert, and then several bottles of hunter’s helper, the whole group of reunited friends and family talked about old times and laughed at old stories. Bobby talked about Rufus always getting out of digging graves on the Sabbath, to which Chuck raised his hand and kindly told Rufus it really wasn’t that big of a deal. You’d never seen Rufus speechless before.

The party lasted into the night, everyone treating the evening like it was the last night on Earth. The big battle would begin in the morning, so everyone wanted to make the most of the time before it. As you headed off to bed, Dean, Sam, and Charlie followed behind you.

Dean caught up to you, leaned into your side and joked with a twinkle in his eye, “Last night on Earth, Bigs, so whaddya say? Wanna finally test out my memory foam?” Dean winked at you while he used the nickname he and Sam had coined for you when they were kids.

You laughed and swatted him on his arm. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told you the last five times it was ‘the last night on Earth’: I’m just way too much woman for you, Dean. If it really is our last night on Earth, wouldn’t you rather face death tomorrow with your ego intact?” You gave Dean a kiss on his cheek and turned into your bedroom as Charlie and Sam laughed behind you.

The truth was, as charming and attractive as Dean was, he’d always be the little boy holding his baby brother’s diaper bag that you met when you were 15. You pushed away thoughts of the one Winchester you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with as you huddled under your covers and tried not to think about the battle to come.

When you went to bed the following night, the world was a very different place.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan, at first. Chuck snapped his fingers and a raging Lucifer was trapped in a cage in the corner of the room, ready to take back the Mark. Chuck waved his hand, and Cas was standing outside the cage, leaving only a bright light inside. Another wave of Chuck’s hand created a vessel for Lucifer that looked a bit like the vessel Lucifer had when you first met him. You and Charlie rushed to Cas’s side to support him, and then walked him as far away from the cage as you could, setting him on the ground outside the line of fire. Rowena called for Amara, and you heard her arrive outside the door. The witches attacked Amara, weakening her until she obliterated them. The angels sent a column of smiting energy down on top of her, but she waved it off like it was nothing. The demons swirled around her, leaving her battered and bruised as she limped into the warehouse. It was when she met the band of hunters that things went awry.

Amara must have still had some kind of hold over Dean. That was the only explanation. Chuck tried talking to her, to no avail, and then Dean tried to appeal to her, which was _not_ part of the plan. Even though Dean made a compelling argument, and you saw no signs of him failing, she saw right through him. She easily saw the part of him that was willing to take her out to save the world, and she attacked.

That’s when Mary stepped in.

Mary wasn’t even supposed to be there. The strongest fighters made up the front line, which included the three Winchester men. Mary was supposed to hang back since she was so rusty. The three men argued with Mary, but she refused to let them all go where she couldn't follow.

"It's time I get to fight with my boys," she said. "It's all of us, or none of us."

Three Winchesters sagged in defeat, knowing they couldn't stop her.

That’s how the four Winchesters made up the front line of hunters. You were only to approach and attack if talking didn’t work. Each of you had guns and knives boosted by spell work, all designed to put chinks in her armor. The idea was that if you damaged her vessel enough, it would weaken her divinity.

When Amara took one step towards Dean, however, Mary stepped in front of him. “I don’t care who you are, you _bitch_ , you can’t have my son!”

Amara tilted her head to the side in a way that reminded you of Cas, oddly enough, studying Mary as she stood between her and Dean. “Dean and I are bonded, and nothing will get between us.” Before anyone could do anything, she reached out a hand and Mary dissolved in a swirl of black smoke that ceased to exist so suddenly there was a loud pop that made your ears hurt.

Dean was the first to move to try and save his mother, but she was so much smoke before he could even reach out to her. Sam grabbed onto Dean’s arm when it failed to meet resistance, keeping Dean from falling over, but just barely. One tense moment passed while the enormity of what Amara did hit everyone.

Then, all hell broke loose.

The Winchesters all attacked, with every other hunter in the room following suit. Spelled bullets flew through the air, and it was a miracle no one was caught in the crossfire. Amara’s body jolted with the impact of the bullets while Chuck chanted the spell to lock her away. Lucifer cried out in his cage as the Mark burned on his arm while Amara screamed at Chuck that she would be freed again someday and would have her revenge. Like Mary, Amara disappeared with a pop, leaving Lucifer panting and mewling while he held his burning right arm.

A deafening silence descended upon the warehouse following the cacophony of guns and screaming. In the quiet, Chuck approached Lucifer’s cage, standing before it with his shoulders slumped and his brow furrowed. “I’m so sorry, my son,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard by anyone, before he waved a hand and the cage disappeared. A key hanging on a cord appeared in his hand, and he hung it around his neck, tucking it into his shirt with a sad pat to his chest.

A strange keening sound erupted from the front line of hunters, and you turned to see John on his knees where Mary had last stood, hands groping the empty floor. Dean and Sam stood on either side of John, staring into the space where Mary had stood, tears quietly streaming down their faces. Before you could stop yourselves, you and Charlie rushed forward to the brothers, grabbing their hands to let them know you were there. John began chanting Mary’s name as Sam held onto you and Dean clung to Charlie. Ellen and Bobby approached next, both of them kneeling with John until he pushed them away with a growl and stormed out of the building.

Seeing his father leave, Dean let go of Charlie and stalked over to Chuck. “Bring her back!” he demanded, his eyes red-rimmed and his face wet.

Chuck stared into Dean’s face with sorrow and shook his head. “There’s no back, Dean. She didn’t kill her, she obliterated her. The best I could do would be to recreate the soul she had when she was born. She wouldn’t have any memories, and because of that, might actually be an entirely different person.” Chuck paused to watch the emotions play over Dean’s face. “I’m so sorry, Dean, but there’s no way.”

Dean turned on his heel and followed his father, while Sam’s arms tightened around you.

The rest of you all returned to the bunker, solemn, but relieved. Sam disappeared into his bedroom without a word, and you were glad that you at least knew where he was and could check on him. Chuck gave Heaven’s parolees a choice of whether they would like to return to Heaven or stay on Earth. Rufus, Pamela, and Ash all chose to return to Heaven, while the rest decided to stay behind and see if there was a place for them in this new world. After snapping his fingers and sending the three back to their respective heavens, Chuck then promised he would be back to visit sometime and disappeared in a blink. You waited up for Dean and John until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer and had to go to bed, worrying about where they might be, and in what condition.

You’d been asleep for maybe an hour when you heard your door open and close and a body landed on the empty side of your bed. Turning on the light, you saw Dean sitting on the bed in just his boxers and a shirt, his head in his hands. Without saying a word, you sat up against the headboard and patted the space next to you. Like he had so many times before, ever since he was 5, he crawled under the covers with you and curled into your side, his head resting on your chest. You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, making comforting noises as his tears dampened your sleep shirt. When his breathing finally evened out and the tension released from his shoulders, you kissed his head and wiped your own tears away before settling in to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on.

The next morning, you woke up before Dean, overheated from having him wrapped around you like an octopus. _If the world’s evil ever knew that big, bad Dean Winchester was a cuddlebug, they’d never take him seriously._ Stroking his hair, you tried to wake him gently, but he didn’t stir. Figuring he needed the rest, you carefully extricated yourself and got up quietly, so you wouldn’t disturb him.

Once in the kitchen, you saw Sam was already up and starting breakfast for the masses. You fell into an easy rhythm with him, borne from years of having shared a living space. When the initial prep work was done, and it was down to watching bacon fry, eggs scramble, and pancakes bubble, you gave Sam a hard inspection. Pale skin and dark circles under red-rimmed eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Need to talk about it, Sam?” you asked quietly, giving him the space he needed to decline.

Sam looked down at you and gave you a sincere smile. “Not much to talk about, Y/N. She was gone for most of my life, and now she’s gone again. It’s pretty much status quo for me. I’m worried about Dad and Dean, though.”

You nodded and fiddled with the eggs in the pan. “We’ll get you all through it. You’ve got more family around you right now than we’ll all know what to do with, I think.”

Sam chuckled, and his smile made you smile, like it always did.

You were interrupted by some of that family coming into the kitchen, noses in the air, drawn in by scents of bacon and pancakes. Soon, everyone was there, except John and Dean, eating breakfast and talking about plans. Bobby wanted to hit the library and Ellen and Jo wanted to go shopping after Charlie offered to give them a ride into town. John walked in while everyone was talking, and the room quieted immediately.

“Don’t stop talking on my account. Just need some buffalo milk,” John groused, heading toward the refrigerator. His hair was wild, his eyes bloodshot, and he was still wearing the same clothes as the day before. Motioning to Sam to stay sitting and keep the conversation going, you got up and helped John find what he needed. John watched as you took the ingredients from him and mixed up the disgusting concoction for him. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Dean. He’s shared a few of your recipes with me over the years.” You handed him the glass, and he looked at it suspiciously before drinking it down.

Wincing and shaking his head, he groaned at the taste. “Man, that’s still the nastiest shit I’ve ever been willing to drink. Damn if it doesn’t work like a charm, though.” Putting the glass in the sink, he turned back to you. “Dean seems to be the only one missing this morning. Where is he?”

“Still asleep. He got in late last night. You must have, too. I’m surprised you’re upright this early.” You looked him up and down again and smirked. “Well, upright is a relative term, I guess.”

John gave half a smile before his face fell. “Couldn’t sleep. Kept dreaming….” John’s voice trailed off, and your heart broke for him. You knew they had shared a heaven and what that meant, and you couldn’t imagine what losing a soulmate must feel like.

“Chuck offered everyone a chance to go back to Heaven if they wanted to. I’m sure he’d come back and do it for you, too, if you asked.”

John studied you, then looked around the room and wiped his hand over his face with a sigh. “Nah. All I’ve got up there is an empty heaven. At least here I have my boys, and you and Bobby, and everyone else.”

You nodded, and you both looked over the room full of hunters. You hadn’t even noticed that Jo was gone until she came back into the room, worry written all over her face.

“Did Dean ever come home last night? I just went to his room and his bed doesn’t look slept in.” Everyone but Sam looked worried, turning to look at you or Sam in concern.

“He got in late, conked out in my room. He was dead to the world when I got up, so I let him sleep. Figured he needed it. I don’t think he slept much with Amara in his head the past few months.”

A flash of something passed over Jo’s features but was gone before you could analyze it. Sam distracted you from it, though, by pointing to his laptop screen and saying the last thing you thought he’d say.

“Well, maybe we should wake him up. I found a case.”

Staring at Sam with wide eyes, your eyebrows must have met the ceiling. “A case, Sam? We just saved the freaking world, _again_ , and we don’t even get a day off?”

Sam dropped his eyes, and his expression told you everything his words wouldn’t. He needed to hunt, or he’d go stir-crazy. Usually, it was Dean that used hunting to get through stuff, but Sam was known to do it sometimes, too. Hell, every hunter sometimes used a hunt to distract them from something.

Sam cleared his throat and raised his eyes again. “Guess not. I found three hunts, actually. Monsters were worried about the Darkness, so they’ve been more active. I’ve got what looks like vamps in Indiana, werewolves in Oklahoma, and Jody sent me an email with some news reports of freaky stuff just inside her jurisdiction. I’ve read over it, but I can’t figure it out just from the reports, so someone has to head up there.”

Your shoulders slumped as you sighed. “Fine. I’ll go wake Dean, and we’ll all convene in the library and divvy up the work.” Glancing around the room, you checked to make sure everyone was on board. Everyone nodded, so you shuffled off to your room.

Fifteen minutes later, everyone was gathered in the library. Dean stood at the head of the tables with his arms crossed in front of his chest, listening while Sam reviewed each of the three cases he’d found. Everyone seemed to have something to say about which case they wanted and who they wanted to hunt with, or even if they wanted to stay behind and why. After a few minutes of everyone talking over everyone else, Dean let out an ear-piercing whistle that quieted everyone down.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Dean looked around the tables and you saw the gears in his head grinding. He paused a moment too long, though, because John spoke up.

“I figure it’ll be me, Dean, and Sam in Sioux Falls, and the rest of you can fight over the werewolf and the vamp cases.” The look on John’s face was very similar to the one on Dean’s a minute before, and you smiled affectionately at the two of them.

That warm, happy feeling didn’t last long.

“No, Dad, you’re not coming with us on this hunt. Maybe the next one, but this one’s got too much going on.” Dean’s face was stern, but knowing him as well as you did, you could see the fear behind his mask. He was standing up to his father, separating them, when that’s the last thing they really needed right now, but he felt it was best for the job. Dean’s eyes glanced at you just long enough for you to give him a slight nod of reassurance, and then he was meeting his father’s gaze again, bolstered by your support.

“What the hell do you mean I’m not coming with you? Who do you think you are, sidelining me? I was hunting before you could read, boy!” John’s face darkened in his fury, and you felt everyone in the room hold their breath.

Dean straightened up, and his fists clenched at his side. “Yeah, and you’ve been out of the game longer than anyone else in this room! Hunting is a hell of a lot different now than it was the last time you loaded a salt gun. Before you died, monsters were predictable and demons were big game. Things have changed, Dad. We've got werewolves living peacefully on animal hearts, vampires drinking only bagged blood, skinwalkers protecting human families, God's freaking sister has a hard-on for me, and I've got the damned King of Hell on freaking speed dial! So, no, Dad, you're not doing the weird hunts until you let us get you caught up."

John sat back in his chair, clearly blown away by his son’s words. His eyes left Dean to glance at Bobby and then you, and when he saw that you agreed with Dean, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Fine. Then I’ll take the werewolf case. Bobby? Y/N? You with me?”

You turned to Bobby and shrugged. “I haven’t been on a milk run since we got this place. I’ve been playing secretary unless the boys needed a hand. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs a bit.”

Bobby looked at you and John, and then his eyes roamed the stacks of books. “As much as I love a good hunt, I’d rather hang back here a while and get my bearings a bit more before jumping into it. If you two are okay on your own….” Bobby’s voice trailed off while you nodded and shrugged.

“I think it might not be a bad idea to call Garth and have him meet you there. He’s kind of become a bit of a werewolf, um, specialist, the last few years.” Sam’s smirk wasn’t lost on you, and you saw Dean try not to react, too.

Chuckling and shaking your head, you agreed, then you stifled a gasp. “Oh, John, you’re just gonna _love_ Garth.” Bobby and the boys all tried to stifle their laughter while John looked perplexed. Putting a hand on his arm, you tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry, John. Garth isn’t that bad. He’s just… affectionate. Kind of like a puppy.”

Dean and Sam both lost control of their laughter, then, while everyone else just looked lost. Dean quickly got himself under control and looked at the remaining hunters. Cas would be with the brothers, so it left Ellen, Jo, and Charlie to take out the vampires, which was agreeable to them.

As everyone headed to their respective rooms to get packed and ready to go, Bobby pulled you aside. “Hey, kiddo. You sure you’re gonna be okay with John? He’s like a bear with a sore ass on a good day, and he’s not gonna have a good day for a long time.”

Taking a deep breath, you settled your nerves. “It won’t be easy, but I think I’ve got a better chance of working well with him than anyone else, right now. Ellen and Jo have their reasons for keeping their distance, and I don’t blame ‘em. Charlie’s great, but she’s not strong-willed enough to go up against John when he has a head full of steam. He might try to steamroll me, but I’m not the same girl he knew. I’ve been handling both of his boys without him for ten years, now. I’ve learned a trick or two.” You gave Bobby a wink, and he smiled in return.

“Good to know,” he said, scratching his beard and adjusting his hat. “By the way, what’s got you guys so tickled about Garth?”

Shaking your head, you chuckled and motioned for him to follow you to your room. “You won’t believe it when I tell you, Bobby.”


	7. 2002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is off to Stanford, and Dean calls Bigs for help.

_2002_

_When you pulled up to the motel, Dean was sitting on the trunk of the Impala, his face thunderous. His posture loosened up the moment he saw your car, though. You pulled into the spot next to him, and he was by your door before you had the engine turned off._

_“God, Y/N, am I glad to see you!” He engulfed you in a tight hug, almost suffocating you._

_“Air, Dean! I need to breathe!”_

_Dean apologized, and loosened his hold, but didn’t let you go._

_“You’re okay, Lima Bean, you’re okay,” you whispered, petting his head and feeling the tension drain out of him._

_“He’s gone, Bigs. He left us without even looking back. He just packed up his stuff one night and said he was going. No warning, no nothin’. Dad blew up, said he wouldn’t be safe by himself, but Sam didn’t care. Sam said he’d be safer living a normal life than hunting. Dad told him to never come back. He’s not coming back, Bigs.”_

_You shushed Dean, holding him until he started to let you go. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the curtain in the nearest motel room swish closed, but it was still when you turned your head. When you could see Dean’s face again, you cupped his head in your hands, looking over his forlorn expression._

_“What do you need from me?”_

_Dean’s shoulders slumped and he stepped away from you, pacing a bit between the cars. “Just, I don’t know, stick around for a while? Do some hunts with us? Dad and I, we need a buffer. It’s like, without Sam pushin’ against him and fighting all the time with him, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he’s snappin’ at me. We’re just at each other’s throats 24/7. I didn’t follow Sam because I know Dad would implode if we both left, but I can’t take it much longer.”_

_“Okay. Gotcha. I’m here as long as you need me.”_

_Dean grabbed your gear out of the back of your car and walked you to the motel room. He opened the door, and then followed you inside._

_“Y/N. What are you doing here?”_

_John’s brusque tone set your nerves fluttering, so you took a deep breath to settle yourself. “I came to ask if I can hunt with you guys for a while. I’ve been looking for hunters I can work with, but not having any luck. So far, the hunters I’ve met have been more interested in getting in my pants than digging graves, and hunting by myself has proven to be a bad idea.” You pulled up your right sleeve to show off a badly stitched gash that was still healing. “I’m a righty, so stitching left-handed left a lot to be desired.”_

_John stood up and approached you, pulling your arm into the light from the window so he could see it better. “You should have come sooner. We could have fixed this before it healed this much. Nothing we can do, now. You’re gonna have a nasty scar.”_

_“Well, what’s one more, right?” Your heart was beating a mile a minute at the feel of John’s hands on your arm, and your face flushed so hot you thought you might start sweating. He finally let go of your arm, and you took a step back from him, trying to rediscover your equilibrium._

_“You’re welcome to join us, as long as you don’t mind occasionally sleeping in close quarters and you do your part.”_

_With a little nod, you said, “Yes, sir.”_

_The hunt turned out to be a werewolf that was living in suburbia. There was no way to approach it without tipping it off and having it run or getting caught on your way out, so a long-distance shot was the best bet. John used the case to give both you and Dean basic sniper training._

_He took you out in the woods, set up some targets in a clearing, then took you on a hike. He stopped you both on a cliff’s edge so far away from the targets that you could barely see them. He talked you through finding a place to make your nest, how to prepare for the waiting you might have to do, how to keep yourself in the zone while you were waiting, and then he got into the shooting aspect. You watched him show Dean how to listen to his heartbeat and wait for the perfect shot, then check for the wind and make allowances for the distance. You stood behind the two men, watching John feed information into his son, and you fell in love with him all over again. He wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes all the time, but he loved his kids, and only wanted what was best for them._

_And then it was your turn._

_Lying on the cold ground, feeling the damp soak into your clothes, and then your skin, actually helped to keep you focused on the target and John’s words instead of his scent and his warmth and his closeness. You’d never been thankful for being so uncomfortable in your life._

_John was hard on you, forcing you to slow down and work harder to get it done right, but you understood the dangers of what the three of you were about to do. You’d be shooting into a suburban neighborhood. With the distances involved, if you were a hair off, your shot could go so far outside of where you intended, that you could hurt innocent civilians._

_When John was satisfied with your work shooting at targets, he let the two of you rest while he did something back where the targets were. You and Dean ate some lunch and chatted about the hunt for about an hour while you waited. When John returned, he had the two of you set back up again, lying next to each other on the ground, and told you to wait._

_Looking through the scope, you saw everything from raw meat to bird seed strewn around the clearing. John had basically chummed the proverbial waters for you. Instead of sharks, though, you were hunting woodland animals._

_“I want you to go for the smallest target you feel comfortable shooting, but preferably a rabbit or a bird, or something smaller, if you think you’re up to it. When you have a shot, call it.”_

_It was a while before anything bigger than a finch approached the area. When you saw the first rabbit, you spoke up._

_“I have a target. Just found a rabbit,” you said quietly, keeping your voice low to prevent it from traveling and scaring off the animals._

_“I see your rabbit, and raise you a raccoon,” Dean murmured. “You shoot your rabbit, and then I’m gonna see if I can hit the raccoon when it runs.”_

_Without moving, you scoffed. “Showoff.”_

_You measured your breaths like John had shown you and lined the rabbit up in your sights. You squeezed the trigger gently, and the rabbit went down, but you kept still instead of celebrating, not wanting to throw off Dean. The sudden demise of their neighbor scattered the other animals, as expected, all of them running for cover into the forest._

_While Dean followed the raccoon, you tracked a second rabbit bounding away. Dean made his shot, and immediately after, you shot the second rabbit right before it reached the tree line. Dean moved from his position, sitting up with a celebratory whoop and a wide grin._

_You sat up, too, and Dean high-fived you with a big laugh. “Yeah! We rock!”_

_You both looked up at John, who had watched everything with his binoculars. His face was split wide with a proud smile for the two of you._

_“Good job! Now, we have to get back before it gets dark. Pack up, guys.”_

_Your eyes lingered on his form as he turned to start putting things away, your heart racing. The adrenaline from the hunt was coursing through you, making you warm, and watching John move so easily around the site in those jeans that fit so well made your mind go to dangerous places. You shook your head to get it out of the clouds and got to work cleaning up._

_Your mind wouldn’t quiet, though. John’s praise meant more to you than even your own pride at your accomplishment. Even though it was fleeting, and he quickly went back to his usual drill sergeant demeanor, he had been pleased with your work, and that stayed with you for the rest of the day._


	8. 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2004 - The sweetest boy in the world romances the hell out of you and John pisses you off as only he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The accent I'm trying (and failing) to spell out here is basically Scottish. I've been watching too much Broadchurch and listening to David Tennant's accent.

_2004_

_After more than two years hunting with John and Dean, the three of you were a well-oiled machine. Without having to say a word, all of you knew who would take the lead, who would do the interviews, who would do the library work, who would get the food, and even who would buy the drinks each round. And if something threw off Plan A, you already knew what Plans B, C, and D were._

_Every couple of months, you’d leave the Winchesters to visit Bobby, do a small hunt on your own, or visit Sam. You had to visit Bobby alone because something had gone down between him and John a few years earlier. All you knew was that it involved the working end of a shotgun getting pointed at John before he backed down and left with the boys. So, you visited Bobby by yourself, taking time off when you were injured or just needed a breather from John’s overwhelming presence._

_Living in John’s pocket was simultaneously the best and hardest thing you’d ever done. Your heart soared with every smile he sent your way, whether it was from a good kill or a good joke. It ached with every smile he gave a waitress, bartender, or witness, wondering if this was going to be the time you had to watch him disappear with her. Friendly touches grounded and healed you, from pats on the back to careful stitches when you were injured. Returning the favor when he was the one with a gash in his side, sitting on the bed stoically not reacting as you sewed his skin back together, that wasn’t so easy. A girl could get nauseated from the conflicting emotions seeing all of that warm skin, greying chest hair sprinkled liberally throughout, split apart and weeping red with every heaving breath._

_The arm around your shoulders tonight was due to a close call. A werewolf almost had his teeth in John’s arm when you shot him. John was demanding a celebration of your success, showing off his pride that you’d now saved his ass a full ten times since you’d started hunting with them. He was, of course, taking all the credit, in the end, claiming that he’d taught you everything you knew._

_“You know that my dad taught me how to shoot long before I even met you, right?” you sassed at John while rolling your eyes at his antics, if only to stop yourself from mooning over him like a schoolgirl. Perhaps it was time for another break. You needed time away from John to calm your heart._

_“Yeah, but I taught you how to aim, darlin’, and that’s the important part!” John joked, giving you a squeeze and a kiss on the head as you all picked a table. Dean just shook his head at you both._

_“Best part is, the savior buys the first round!” Dean declared, taking a seat with a flourish and waving for you to head to the bar._

_“Next time, I’m leaving you all to be puppy chow,” you snarked, chuckling so they knew you weren’t really serious. John sat down across from Dean while you headed to the bar._

_This place was less of a bar and more like a club, though. There was a DJ playing music and a small dance floor surrounded by tables on three sides, the bar making up the fourth. It was a Tuesday night, so the place wasn’t full, but there was a decent crowd of interesting people to watch while you waited for the bartender to notice you. More people were at tables or the bar, waiting to be served, than were on the dance floor, but there were a few pairs of people grinding and writhing against each other to the pop music blaring from the stage._

_The bartender took your order and started filling a tray with shots and beer mugs when the music changed. The annoying pop song was replaced by an upbeat song you remembered from your youth, and you tapped your toes. As you watched the bartender execute the best pour you’d ever seen, someone settled next to you and tapped your arm._

_You swiveled quickly, one hand on the hidden knife in your belt, to see a ridiculously tall, but ultimately innocuous-looking man. He had dark red hair that curled around his face giving him a boyish look, making you wonder if he was even old enough to drink. His smile was so infectious and happy, though, he reminded you of a puppy asking for a treat. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought he might even be taller than Sam, which was saying something since he’d shot up another inch before his 21st birthday. This guy was at least 6’6”, and made you feel petite for the first time in your life._

_“If I pay for tha’ round yer buyin’ and promise not ta hit on ya, would you be willing ta dance wi’ me?”_

_The question, and the accent it was cloaked in, momentarily threw you for a loop, and you merely blinked at him._

_“I mean, I can tell yer here with yer, well,” he paused to look at your left hand, “boyfriend, then? But it’s rare tha’ I get ta dance wi’ someone without dyin’ of back strain, if ya know wha’ I mean.” His smile reappeared, his tone teasing while he mimed dancing with someone so short he had to bend over to embrace her. “Yer jus’ perfect, and I couldna miss a chance ta actually enjoy a dance fer once.”_

_Heat flooded your face at all of his words._

_“I’m, um, actually, it’s not like that.” You nodded towards Dean and John and forced a smile. “Not dating, we’re just co-workers on a job.”_

_His eyebrows raised in surprise, but then he put out his hand for you to shake. “Ian.”_

_Taking his hand in yours, you replied, “Y/N.”_

_“Well, if they’re not savvy enough ta snap up such a beautiful woman as yerself, then I would be stupid not ta take advantage! I rescind my offer. I still want a dance, but I make no promises about not hittin’ on ya.”_

_The obvious interest in his eyes made you blush again as you ducked your head self-consciously. His hand landed gently on your arm and you forced yourself to look up at him. Blue eyes almost clashed with his hair, but the light in them was impossible to resist. This boy had no idea about the world you knew, and his innocence was a breath of fresh air. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your smile, but you could try to resist his boyish charms._

_“I’m probably old enough to be your mother!” you exclaimed, laughing at him as he shook his head and shrugged._

_“I’m old enough ta know that I can’t let good things pass by without at least tryin’ ta catch ‘em,” he said, looking at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen._

_The bartender interrupted the spell Ian was weaving over you with his words, and he took advantage of your distraction to hand the bartender a few bills. Before you could move, he grabbed the tray and nodded towards your table. “Sooner we deliver tha goods, sooner we’ll be on tha dance floor, right?”_

_You would have sworn right then his smile actually pinged like the old toothpaste commercials._

_He led you to your table, putting down the tray and passing out the drinks like he’d known all of you for decades. Dean watched him, sizing him up to determine if he was a threat, but John actually glared. If looks could kill, Ian would have hit the floor. Ian seemed completely oblivious, though, nodding at both men cordially._

_“If ya don’ mind, I’m just gonna take Y/N out fer a spin,” he said to the Winchesters, nodding towards the dance floor. “I promise ta bring her back in good condition!”_

_Before either of the sitting men could say a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the open area in the middle of the room. The music changed to something slow and sweet, and soon you were swaying back and forth, your head tucked under Ian’s chin._

_One song bled into the next, and Ian’s hold didn’t waver. “Ah, this is tha best dance I’ve ever had,” he said, speaking softly into your ear. “Too bad yer in it deep with tha biggun over there. I’d take ya home an’ sweep ya off yer feet proper if I thought I had a chance.”_

_“I said, we just work together. Known them for, gosh, twenty years, now. It’s really not what you’re thinking.”_

_Ian tried to be quiet, but you could feel his need to talk. “Are ya tryin’ ta convince me or you?”_

_You tried to back up enough to look at his face, but he used your move to twirl you away and then pull you back into his arms before he dipped you dramatically. He held you firm in his grasp, mid-dip, while he argued with you._

_“‘Coz tha biggun has been wantin’ ta use mah guts fer garters since tha first time I looked at ya.”_

_He pulled you back up, then resumed just swaying gently with you in his arms while your mind whirled. The song ended, and the new song was a little faster, but Ian held you tightly. He tried a couple more of his fancy moves, but you tripped over your own feet, making you both laugh, and he agreed to take it easier on you. As the song was coming to a close, he brought his mouth closer to your ear._

_“Tell me I’m wrong, and ya don’t fancy him, and give a lad some hope, yeah?”_

_You pulled away just enough to look up at him, but you couldn’t make the lie leave your lips. His smile faltered. He recovered, though, giving an almost imperceptible shrug before his smile lit up again._

_“Then, how about we give ‘im sumthin’ ta think about?” he asked with a gleam in his eye._

_Before you could answer, his lips were on yours in a gentle, chaste kiss. As innocent as the kiss actually was, it seemed to last forever, his lips sliding against yours. It was a nice kiss but didn’t spark anything close to what you felt from just one of John’s looks._

_Ian pulled away with a sad smile. “Damn. We coulda had beautiful babies, Y/N.” His smile brightened as he went on to tease you, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll dream of ‘em on mah deathbed, you gorgeous thing, you.”_

_Laughter burst from you, surprising you. He was just so teasingly sincere, you almost wished you could just leave your life and do nothing but love him for the next 60 years. As the music changed back to something faster with a techno beat, he dropped one more quick peck on your lips._

_“Our love was short, but sweet, and minstrels will sing songs of us when we’re long dead.” He took one of your hands and bowed deeply before you, kissing it with a flourish. “Mi’lady, ‘twas a pleasure.”_

_You couldn’t help your laughter as you shook your head at his antics. “Oh, my god, you’re so precious. You’re going to make some young woman a very lucky lady, someday.”_

_He straightened up from his bow and waggled his eyebrows at you. “Yeah, but I’ll toss her over in a second if ya say tha word!”_

_Both of you were now laughing as he led you back to your table, his hand gently at your lower back. John’s glare was a physical thing you could suddenly feel, making you work to keep the good mood Ian had inspired in you. Dean was gone, probably chatting up the bartender to try for free drinks, and you were left with just John. Ian seated you politely and then thanked you again for the dance before he walked away._

_The shots and beers Ian had bought for you were all empty, and a matching set was sitting next to them, with only one beer left untouched. You pondered everything Ian had said while you pulled the mug towards you and took a drink. John’s earlier good mood was gone, his face dark and thunderous. Could Ian have been right? Was John jealous of Ian?_

_“I told you before that you don’t need to do that for us. We can pay for our own, and if you need cash, you just need to ask. You don’t have to prostitute yourself like that.”_

_All of the warm and fuzzy feelings that Ian had given you disappeared in a wave of anger so fierce that you were glad you were in public. Had you been in private, you might have shot the bastard._

_“So, the only way someone might look at me twice is if they want to pay for a ride, is that it? And I’m obviously willing to spread my legs for anyone with a big enough wallet? Is that what you think of me, John?”_

_John’s face changed about a hundred times in a fraction of a second, and you hoped that regret was one of the emotions there, but you couldn’t give him the time to try and save himself. You were just too angry._

_“Fuck you, John,” you growled as you stood up and slammed the chair against the table, sending beer sloshing out of the mug you’d barely touched. “Just fuck you.”_

_Hot tears froze on your face as you stormed out the door of the club into the late winter air. An hour later, you were on a bus to South Dakota, needing a break from all things John. You stewed for three states, cursing out John under your breath like it was your job. The sad part was, had you met Ian when you were by yourself, on one of your trips to visit Sam or Bobby, you probably would have taken him home for the night. When you weren’t with John, you could pick someone up for a little stress relief, no problem. You just couldn’t do it with John there. Nobody measured up to him when he was in the room. Not even the most charming boy ever, who practically spoke to you in fucking poetry could overshadow John Winchester. Everyone else just paled in comparison._

_Bobby was surprised to see you on his doorstep, but welcomed you as he always did, never pushing you for why you dropped in out of nowhere. All you said was, “John pissed me off,” and he nodded with a look that said, “Of fucking course he did, he’s John Fucking Winchester,” and passed you a beer._

_John blew up your phone from about an hour after you’d left him until you finally answered a call from Dean. You ignored all of the messages, trying to just calm down and lick your wounds. Dean knew you couldn’t refuse him, though, so he called, merely glad to hear that you were okay. John hadn’t given him details, just said that you’d left. When you told him, Dean yelled a string of curse words and hung up._

_Half an hour later, you got a text from John. Your phone had been quiet since Dean’s call, and curiosity drove you to look at it. After thumbing through a string of worried texts demanding you let him know you were okay and not taken by a monster, you finally got to the most recent string of messages._

_“I’m so sorry for what I said. That kid was so beneath you, so not in your league, that I thought you were just hustling him. And I hate you hustling. You’re hunting with me, now, so I’m supposed to take care of you, and that includes doing the hustling. Dean says that’s caveman mentality. Well, I’m old enough to qualify, but I’ll try to do better. Just please come back. Dean really wants you here, and he can’t stitch like you can. We need you. I’m sorry.”_

_John Winchester apologized._

_Bobby joked that demons in Hell were making snow angels._

_You met back up with Dean and John in Nebraska on a hunt for a cursed object the next day. Dean threw his arms around you and told you he was glad you were back. John just nodded and dropped his eyes, then cleared his throat and started briefing you about the case._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets Garth.

A half an hour later, you were packed and ready to go. John was waiting for you in the library, pacing like a caged animal. You took a deep breath before catching his attention, settling your nerves and centering yourself before you had to deal with the Winchester patriarch. Watching him pace, you took note of how he hadn’t changed a bit. You thought about how your own physical appearance had changed in ten years, reflecting a lot of the inner changes you’d gone through. Watching your boys go through hell, sometimes from a distance, sometimes right in front of you, accepting that they were the only family you’d ever have, and dealing with all of the losses…you weren’t the same pie-eyed girl who thought the sun rose and set on John Winchester. He was still attractive as hell, no question there, but you understood him far better now than you had before. Doing the math in your head, you were surprised to realize you were now only about 5 years younger than he was, instead of 15. _Huh. Nothing like a decade in Heaven to even out the playing field._

You caught John’s attention and led him to the garage, where you had to turn him away from the Impala. You let him take a moment to look her over, though, wishing Dean was there to see his dad appreciate her. After a moment, you tugged on his arm and led him to your Subaru Outback, which he predictably looked at with disgust.

“I’m not driving this,” he said with a sneer and a shake of his head.

“Good. That saves us one argument,” you said with a wide grin. “Now, toss your bag in the back and get in. It’s not a long drive, but I want to get some work done before dark.”

John scowled, but did what he was told, dropping down into the passenger seat. As you pulled out of the garage, you heard him grumbling. “Not even an American car.”

“No, it’s not. But you know what it is? Quiet. Unassuming. Forgettable. All things a hunter likes to be during a hunt. Oh, and since I have no credit since a shifter decided to be me before he died, cheap. Not to mention, it’s got all-wheel drive, so it can go where even Baby can’t go, and heated seats to soothe my creaky back on long drives. Dean hated it when I first brought it home, and it took him some time to work out all the kinks, but I know for a fact he’s chosen this car over Baby during snowy supply runs. If he can deal with it, so can you.”

John grumbled some more, but you just ignored him. After a stop to pick up a cell phone and laptop for John, in spite of his insistence that he didn’t need a laptop, you got on the road and called Garth. Garth wasn’t too far away, so you decided to meet as soon as you got into town to go over the case. After you got off the phone, the car was quiet for a long time as John stared out the window at the scenery going by. When you couldn’t stand the silence, anymore, you took a deep breath and tried to reach out.

“How’re you doing, John?”

John shrugged his shoulders and kept his eyes on the corn.

“I’m serious, John. I want to know. You’ve had a lot of changes in the past few days, and I’m here if you need to vent about it.”

John didn’t make a move or say a word for so long that you’d almost forgotten you’d said anything.

“You’re not the same kid who had trouble changing Sammy’s diaper, you know?”

Blushing furiously, you rolled your eyes. “30 years will do that to you.”

His eyes roamed over you, taking note of the changes, making your skin tingle everywhere they looked. “You’re not even the 30-something hunter who vomited on a pile of ghoul leftovers.”

You huffed a sarcastic laugh. “I can still vomit with the best, actually. My stomach hasn’t gotten any better with anything beyond blood.”

The road stretched out in front of you, sunlight filtering through the trees.

“The first thing I noticed was how my boys weren’t boys anymore. They’ve got the confidence, they lost the baby fat, seems like they grew another inch or two. But you’ve changed, too.”

Trying to laugh it off, you said, “Ten more years of handling Winchesters, John. I’ve honed my craft. Now, tell me how you’re doing, or next hunt I’ll find us a Prius.”

“What’s a Prius?”

“An electric monstrosity of a car that doesn’t even make noise.”

John’s grimace was paired with a noise of pure disgust as he tried to judge if you were serious or not. When he realized that you were joking, he chuckled and shook his head before getting quiet and looking out the window again. The trees outside the window fell away as corn fields took their place.

“The last time I lost Mary, I had two kids who needed me, and a mission to complete. This time, my boys not only don’t need me, they don’t want me around, and the mission is done.”

If it were Dean or Sam sitting next to you, you’d take their hand. But this was John.

“It’s not that they don’t need you or want you, John. It’s all about the hunt. They’ve been hunting together, by themselves most of the time, sometimes with me or Cas, for over a decade, now. They’re in charge, and anyone who hunts with them is merely tagging along for the ride. Can you honestly say you would take orders from them?”

John snorted a sarcastic laugh and shook his head. “You’ve got a point, there.”

“And that was the problem. That hunt in Sioux Falls, it was a giant unknown, even for them. My guess is they’ll be calling me or Bobby for research help, and handling everything with kid gloves, partially because Jody is the sheriff up there, and a good friend. They have to do the hunt, but also deal with politics. Not to mention, Cas will want to spend time with Claire. She’s his vessel’s daughter, and she lives with Jody. With the three of them, they will have more than enough manpower.”

John sighed, and returned to looking out the window. A few exits on the highway passed by before he spoke again.

“That bothers me, too. Being so chummy with monsters. When did that happen?”

You took a moment to figure out how to frame your answer. “How much do you know of what the boys did while you were in Heaven?”

John shook his head. “We were isolated in our heaven. Every now and then we’d hear rumblings like something big was happening, but it was like hearing thunder on a sunny day. One day, clear as a bell, we heard a message like someone beamed it into our heads. It said, ‘Dean Winchester is saved.’ I wondered what that meant, but I was just thankful he was saved from whatever had him.”

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. “Well, we’re gonna be in this car for a while, so I guess I’ll start at the beginning.”

Over the next seven hours, you did your best to explain everything that had happened since John’s death. He asked a lot of questions, and you tried to answer them as best you could. Hearing that both of his sons had spent time in Hell like he had distressed him, but it made him understand why Cas was now family. The idea of Purgatory puzzled him, but hearing how Benny fought and died for the brothers made him understand why you no longer went into hunts guns blazing. He asked about the Mark of Cain, and you tried to say as little as possible, wanting to leave that to Dean to explain. By the time you got to Oklahoma, John was quiet. As you pulled into a motel parking lot, you saw Garth’s broken-down Ranchero and decided to drop the final bombshell on your old hunting partner.

“You should know before we get out of this car, Garth is a werewolf.”

John shook his head and sighed. “Somehow, I should have expected that.”

“He was a hunter for years and got bitten. He was about to take himself out when he found a family of purebloods who live off animals. They took him in, taught him how to stay clean, and now he’s got a wife and kid. He’s going to sniff out the pack and try to convert them. If they don’t bite, no pun intended, then we hunt. If they agree to change, we go home, no blood spilled.”

John fell silent again, considering everything you said. “Man, the world has changed.”

The motel manager told you what room Garth was in as you checked in, so you knocked on his door after dropping your bags in your own room. The door swung wide open and you were engulfed in long arms before you could even say hello. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw John reach for the gun in his waistband, but you motioned for him to relax.

“Oh, man, Miss. Y/N! I haven’t seen you in an age! What got you out of that bunker you’ve been hiding in, lately?”

Backing out of the hug, you gestured to John. “Garth, this is John Winchester.”

Garth looked at John, then back at you, then back at John, and then back at you with a giggle. “Naw! You’re just foolin’ with me, now!”

Shaking your head, you replied, “Sorry, Garth, but it’s true. Let us in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Garth backed into the room, his eyes wide and glued to John. John entered the room nervously, looking around for danger. You sighed and led John to the table and urged him to sit down at one of the chairs while you sat down in the other. Garth sat on the bed, still openly gawking at John.

“I have to say, sir, I have the utmost respect and admiration for your boys.”

John’s smile was a bit plastic and still suspicious. “Thank you.”

Deciding to save John any further discomfort, you tapped Garth’s knee to bring his attention back to you. “Long story short, we fixed a problem, which created a different problem, which required manpower to fix, so a few old hunters are back topside again.” Garth’s eyes widened with amazement and a little hope. You gave him a smile and said, “Yeah. Bobby, too.”

Garth flew to his feet with a happy yell and grabbed you up, hugging you so tightly your feet left the ground. He swung you around, and then almost sent you both falling over your feet. When you caught yourself, John was standing by the table with a dangerous look on his face. You brushed your hair out of your face and gave John a smile to let him know you were okay. He sat down reluctantly, his eyes never leaving Garth.

“Man, that’s the best news I’ve heard since Bess told me she was pregnant again!”

The two of you spent a couple of minutes catching up on his family news while John looked bored and annoyed. Finally, you brought the discussion back to the hunt. Garth said he’d already gone out and talked to the pack, and they were hostile, at best. He gave you and John the rundown of where they were, and the three of you mapped out a plan while you ordered in dinner. John watched Garth eat a slice of pizza, and you tried not to giggle at his expression.

Garth surprised you by turning to John and answering his unasked question. “I eat other food besides hearts, I just have to have a heart once every day or so or I get a little feral.”

John nodded but said nothing. Garth looked to you for reassurance and you smiled to make him relax.

The hunt went quickly and well since the pack was small and fairly new. Taking care of the bodies took more time than the hunt, itself, and you were soon back at the motel cleaning up. John opted to go to the bar down the street instead of hanging around the motel and gave you the distinct impression he wanted to be alone. Deciding to give him what he wanted for a while, you hung out with Garth for a bit. When you returned to the room you were sharing with John, he was passed out on one of the beds, fully clothed, with a mostly-empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. Shaking your head, you removed his boots before you changed and went to bed, yourself. Before you turned off the light, you looked at him long and hard, drinking in his features and wishing you could do something to make him feel better.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt is over. John has a nightmare.

You woke suddenly, not sure what had startled you, alert for any noises or lights that could tell you what was happening. It was almost a minute later, when you were just beginning to relax again, when you heard John talking in his sleep.

Rushing to turn on the light, you sat up and studied John to see if waking him up was a good idea. He was tense as a guitar string, his fists clenched, and his head shaking back and forth as he grunted and groaned, calling out for Mary, Dean, and Sam. Deciding it was better to try and wake him gently, you approached his bed just in time to hear your name, too. Shock halted your steps for a moment, before you remembered that you had to wake him up. Carefully, trying to stay out of the line of fire in case he started throwing punches, you grabbed one hand and tried to gently shake his shoulder with the other. He did end up throwing a punch as he woke up, but you saw it coming and managed to duck before it landed.

As he finally came to, sitting straight up in bed, his eyes were wild, flitting around the room as if he were looking for danger. He took one shuddering breath after another, and you could almost hear his heart racing. When his eyes finally settled, they settled on you, relief easing the worry lines on his forehead. His breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, falling back onto the pillow.

John flung an arm over his face and groaned. “Sorry for waking you up, Y/N.”

“It’s no problem, John. We all have nightmares. I’m used to it.” Sitting down on the side of the bed, you clasped his hand in both of yours, rubbing calming circles into his skin.

John lifted the arm off of his eyes, so he could look at you. “You get them, too?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. Not like Dean and Sam do, or like what you just had, I don’t think. Living in each other’s pockets for so long, I’m just used to one of us having a problem anytime I’m sharing a room with someone.”

John’s expression fell as you mentioned his sons and he put his arm over his eyes again. “Damn. I wanted better for them.” He was quiet for so long you thought he might be falling asleep again, but he surprised you and opened his eyes again to look at you. “You hold their hand like this, too, Y/N?”

He gave you a smirk and a tired chuckle, but you just smiled sadly, steadfastly resisting the urge to drop his hand. “Sometimes,” you murmured. “It depends. Usually, we just end up snuggling a bit unless it’s really bad.”

You couldn’t meet John’s eyes, anymore, not sure how to describe how bad Dean’s nightmares were when he had the Mark, and how he would cling to you in his sleep until you’d hum a lullaby to get him to relax. How Sam would be so stoic during the day, but when you’d hear him cry out in his sleep, he’d quietly let you wrap your arms around him and rock him until he was snoring again.

“Being in Heaven, there weren’t nightmares. There’d be that soft feeling of going to sleep with Mary in my arms, and then I’d just be waking up, warm and happy in the same way. Once we worked through everything, told each other all the secrets we’d had on Earth, caught up on what had happened after she’d died, there was no talk of the past or the future. It was all right in that moment, all the time.” His voice faltered, almost breaking. “I’ve been back, now, for what, three nights? I haven’t slept through any of them.”

He was quiet, but your curiosity got the better of you, so you had to ask. “What are you dreaming about?”

Without removing his arm, he huffed a dark chuckle. “Hell, mostly. And what isn’t Hell might as well be.”

Nodding, you wondered if what you wanted to do was overstepping bounds or not. You wanted to wrap yourself around him like an octopus and kiss his cares away. Okay, considering his wife died for the second time just a couple of days before, that was probably a bad idea.

“Do you want me to do for you what I do for the boys?”

You held your breath, not knowing if he would laugh or cry or get angry at the question. It took him a minute or so to answer, but you were patient, taking comfort in the fact that he hadn’t pulled his hand out of yours. When he did answer, his voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“Thanks, Y/N, but no.” He let his other arm drop and pulled his hand from your grasp. “I need to learn how to deal with this shit on my own.” Sitting up, he dragged his hands over his face, giving his beard a scratch on the way down. His eyes were sad as he looked around the room, and he reminded you of his sons so much your heart clenched. Unlike his sons, though, he didn’t want comfort from you.

Following a burst of inspiration, you grabbed his new phone and laptop and brought them over to him on the bed. “Scoot over. If we’re not sleeping, then we’re gonna at least help you get caught up on the world.”

A half-hour later, John’s phone was loaded with all of your contacts, and he was looking up news reports with Google. Part of you was surprised that he picked everything up so fast, and part of you wasn’t. Sure, he was dealing with a lot of lost time, but he was always ridiculously smart.

“Donald Trump is President? Really?” John looked at you like it was somehow all your fault for letting something so ridiculous happen.

Putting your hands up in surrender, you chuckled. “Don’t look at me! I don’t exactly have a voter registration card, you know!” John’s grin caught you by surprise, making you want to see it again. “Crowley swears there’s no demon deal involved, but he refuses to help us figure out what’s actually going on, so we can put a stop to it. He says Donald’s good for business. All the more reason for us to find a way to take him out, I say. The lore, however, has not revealed a single monster with the ability to create a glamour so widespread and consistent, much less with such, um, unique features.”

John laughed and shook his head, and you felt the familiar tugging and pride in your heart that you’d made the big man smile. A smiling John Winchester was so very rare, and you’d always considered it a personal achievement that you could make it happen. It didn’t hurt that his smile always gave you a funny feeling in your belly. As John continued reading through news reports, you tried to hide how you studied his features. His fingers were quick and precise as they danced over the keyboard, his eyes curious as he read the words on the screen. With a burst of inspiration, you pulled up imdb.com, and let his eyes search the screen for a moment.

“Pick a movie, and we can watch it.”

John looked at you with raised eyebrows and wide eyes, and you nodded in encouragement. “Dean used to talk about those Star Wars movies. I never took the time to see them.” John’s eyes were sad as he thought about the times he hadn’t spent with his kids when they were younger.

Taking up the laptop, you searched until you found a very illegal site with the movies. “They’ve made a bunch of prequels since the first movies came out, but we’ll watch them in the order they came out, so you understand what Dean was talking about. Sound good?”

John’s smile was soft as he looked between you and the laptop. “Yeah. Sounds good.”


	11. 1988

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1988 - Little Sammy is sick.

_1988_

_Little Sammy was flushed with fever, whimpering every so often, and he’d even vomited once. His little body was wracked with shivers, but as soon as you bundled him up, he kicked at the covers, kicked at you, and said he couldn’t breathe. His nose was running, and he had a cough, too. Dean was being a trooper, helping you watch his little brother, doing whatever you asked the minute you spoke up._

_Sam needed medicine, though. Some soup, and saltines, and ginger ale, and probably 15 more things you just didn’t have in that motel room would also be useful. Money was tight, though. This hunt of John’s had taken longer than it should have. You had enough money for either the room, or the food and supplies you needed._

_You pictured Hank, the motel manager, and the way his eyes always followed you. You weren’t a virgin, anymore, you’d decided to get rid of that on your first solo hunt a few months before, so you knew what was on his mind._

_Another nasty coughing fit wracked Sammy’s little body, and when it finally let up, he wailed._

_Decision made._

_“Dean, get yourself ready to go to the store. We need to pick up some supplies for Sammy.”_

_Dean was nine, now, but the look he gave you made him look much older. “Y/N, we don’t have enough money to cover both the room and supplies.”_

_Cocking an eyebrow and putting a hand on your hip, you grimaced. “And how do you know how much money we have? Did you go through my things?”_

_Dean’s eyes widened. “No! I just know how much Dad gave you and how much stuff costs. This isn’t the first time Dad’s been late, you know.” The matter-of-fact way the little boy talked about this just broke your heart. Why wouldn’t John just ask you to hunt with him? You were an adult, now! You could take such good care of him, AND his boys._

_You took a deep breath to settle your emotions and shook your head. “Well, you’re wrong. We have plenty. Now, let’s get to the store and get what Sammy needs to get better.”_

_You knew Dean didn’t believe you, but he’d do anything to make his little brother better, so he got moving. Packing all of you into your car, you headed to the nearest store._

_Walking around with a sick five-year-old who was clinging to you like a koala bear got you stares from everyone in the store. Never mind that you were way too young to be Dean’s mom, you were just old enough to be a sad, scandalous statistic of a teenage mother to Sam. Yes, your height made people assume you were older, but not so much older as to make you suddenly respectable carting two kids around. Your ragtag appearance probably wasn’t helping. Showering when Sammy was this upset was impossible. Yes, Dean took good care of Sam while you were indisposed, but the sound of Sammy’s cries broke your heart._

_You shook off the looks and got down to business. Pediatric cough medicine, check. Ginger ale, check. Saltines, check. Pediatric fever reducer, check. Tissues, check. That nasty shit some people rub on their chests, check. It’s the soup aisle that slowed you down._

_This store had a really lousy soup selection._

_“All right, Dean, it looks like it’s down to regular chicken noodle or tomato rice. I used to like tomato soup when I was sick. We can make grilled cheese sandwiches and dunk ‘em?”_

_Dean’s face froze into a stoic expression you hadn’t seen for a couple of years. You’d obviously hit on something Mary had done. Shit._

_His head dropped, and he covered the sound of a sniffle with a cough. “Chicken noodle.”_

_Sammy must have sensed Dean’s distress, because his cries got quieter. Squatting so you were closer to eye level with Dean, you grabbed a can of chicken noodle soup and pushed it towards him._

_“Chicken noodle will never be as good as tomato rice, but it tries. Chicken noodle has got some good stuff in it and will try and make you feel better if you let it.”_

_Dean nodded, taking the can from you and putting it in the cart. You stood up and grabbed a few more cans of soup, since it was cheap. As you put them in the cart, Dean plastered himself to your side that was Sam-free, wrapping his arms around you. You ruffled his hair and kissed his head._

_“You’re okay, Dean bean.”_

_Dean ripped himself away from you and scoffed as he walked down the aisle. “I am not a bean!”_

_You chuckled. “Yeah, you are! You’re a lima bean!” you called after him._

_Dean turned around and made a horrible face. “Lima bean?”_

_“Yeah! They’re my favorite kind of bean, and you’re my favorite kind of Dean, Lima Bean!” You caught up with him and thoroughly messed up his hair, making him swat you away._

_Dean’s expression changed to horrified. “You are not calling me Lima Bean!”_

_Even little Sammy chuckled at Dean’s horror._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt in Sioux Falls needs more hands, so you and John head to Jody's.

A quick check-in call to Dean the next morning had you changing your original destination from the bunker to Sioux Falls.

“We need research help up here, Bigs. There’s just too much information for Sammy to sort through by himself, and with Heaven still on lockdown, Cas can’t go up and ask around, so we’re stuck doing this the old-fashioned way.”

“And Heaven forbid Dean Winchester pick up a book and help his brother, right?” you joked, chuckling so he’d know you weren’t being serious.

“Damn straight, Bigs. I got better things to do,” Dean retorted, also laughing. “No, actually, I’m pounding the pavement, canvassing with Jody. Even Claire and Cas are talking to people, and you can guess how well that’s going.”

Your eyes widened, and you turned to John, letting him see the fear and trepidation on your face. “Oh, God. That’s awful. Please tell me you split them up. They would just be bad cop/worse cop!”

Dean laughed. “Hell, yeah, we split them up! Cas is with me, Claire is with Jody, we’ve got this figured out. Sammy really needs help, though. He called Bobby five times yesterday just to bounce ideas around. He needs someone to make him tea and braid his hair before he crawls out of his skin.”

You heard Sam’s exclamation of resentment, “Jerk!” through the phone and laughed. Dean responded with his usual, “Bitch,” and a laugh. John just stared at the phone, the look on his face inscrutable.

“All right, then, boys, we’ll be there tomorrow morning, late tonight if John agrees to drive some.” You looked at John with challenge in your eyes, and he groaned.

“In the interest of saving lives, fine, I will drive your crappy foreign car.” His eyes rolled so hard in his head you thought they might get stuck, making you laugh.

“Don’t lie, old man. You enjoyed the heated seats in my crappy foreign car, and you know it.”

John looked at you for a second and then got a playful look in his eye. “You’re almost as old as I am, now, little girl, so I wouldn’t joke about that, if I were you!”

You scrunched your face and sighed, ignoring the clench in your stomach at the endearment. “Don’t remind me. My aching knees remind me enough! And my back. And my shoulder ever since that rougarou hunt….” Your voice trailed off as you grimaced, making John smile in victory.

“We’ll be sure to have the Ben Gay ready for you when you get here, then,” Dean quipped, a light tone in his voice. “You know we always take care of you, Bigs.”

Warmth filled your heart, and you smiled a tender smile, thinking about how your boys always did try and take care of you. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Dean. We’ll see you tonight.”

The drive up to Sioux Falls was more comfortable than you had expected. You spent some of the time sleeping, but even when he wasn’t driving, John stayed awake. You and John had fallen into an easy camaraderie, less strained than what you used to share before he died. Back then, he was the captain, and you were just a soldier along with Dean. Now, you were more equal, and he seemed more relaxed. Maybe it was because he was no longer on a mission to avenge his wife. Maybe it was because it was just the two of you. Maybe it was because you now had more experience than he did. Whatever it was, you liked it, and decided to appreciate it for as long as it lasted.

Your car door was barely opened when a blonde whirlwind landed in your arms.

“Y/N! Thank God, you’re here. You need to tell Jody that my room being a little messy is not that big a deal. I’m an adult, and if I want to keep my clothes in piles, I should be able to!” Claire looked up into your eyes with all the sincerity a besieged teenage girl could muster.

“Hi, Claire! Nice to see you! I’m doing just fine. Thanks for asking!” Pulling her into your arms, you rested your head on top of hers for a moment while you enjoyed the feeling of her melting into your arms. Claire had always liked you, for some reason you could never fathom, but you were always grateful for it. She had wanted to live with you in the bunker, at one point, but you convinced her that Jody was a safer bet, since Dean had the Mark at that time. Now, Claire was doing so well with Jody, you could never tear her away.

Claire’s face flushed as she quietly apologized for bombarding you. You brushed a lock of blonde hair from her face and assured her it was okay. “As for keeping your room clean, though, I’m on Jody’s side. If everything is where it belongs, you’ll never waste time searching for something you need. One minute spent looking could mean life or death on a hunt. Better to just be in the habit of keeping things neat, kid.”

Claire rolled her eyes and sighed, pulling away from you and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. It’s my freaking room, not an armory. Who told you it was so freaking important?”

John stepped around the front of the car, carrying all the bags from the car. Turning Claire around so she could see him, you threw an arm over her shoulder and nodded his direction.

“He did.”

John cracked a small smile in your direction but turned a serious eye to the teenager in front of him. Putting out a hand for her to shake, he introduced himself. “John Winchester.”

“Winchester?” Claire asked, ignoring John’s hand, and looking at you with trepidation.

Nodding, you gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Dean and Sam’s dad.” John’s hand fell back to his side as he watched you and Claire.

A whole host of emotions crossed over Claire’s face before it finally settled on bitterness. “Do I want to know why and how he got to come back?” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she stuck her chin out defiantly.

“Something big was going down, so a handful of the best hunters were sort of called off the bench. It was a one-time thing, only certain people got the call, and we didn’t get to make requests.”

Claire nodded, understanding that whatever brought John back wouldn’t be able to bring back her parents. After taking a sniffling breath, she pulled away from you and offered John her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

John gave her a nervous smile and shook her hand. “Same here.”

When their contact broke, Claire visibly shook herself out of her thoughts of her parents and turned to lead you both into the house. “I’m going to bunk in Alex’s room, so you guys can figure out who sleeps on the couches or in my room. My only request is that nobody defiles my bed. If I’m not allowed to have sex in it, neither is anybody else!”

You pushed Claire out from under your arm with a playful shove and laughed. “Claire Novak, you know I would never!!”

Claire rolled her eyes with a smile and a laugh. “I know. You live with two guys, but it’s all _Three’s Company_. You realize nobody believed them, either, right?”

As you walked into Jody’s living room, you gave Claire a playful smack to the back of the head. “You know I changed Sam’s diapers, right? That’s so wrong!”

Sam looked up from where he was working on his laptop at the table with a sour look on his face. “Really? That’s what you tell people?”

You walked over to him and ruffled his hair until he smacked your hand away. “Would you rather I tell them about the poem you wrote for your third-grade teacher?”

Sam blushed furiously and ducked his head. “Diapers it is, then!” he mumbled as he pretended to go back to his research.

Jody came out of the kitchen just then and embraced you with a smile. “So good to see you again, Y/N!” When she finally let you go, you introduced John and watched her eyes widen as they rose to meet his face. “I guess I see where the boys get their good looks from!”

John blushed as he shook Jody’s hand and gave her one of his devastating smiles. “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard good things.”

Jody smiled and pretended to wipe sweat from her brow. “Phew! Good! For a second, there, I thought maybe somebody told you the truth!”

Everyone laughed, and when Dean and Cas walked in the door, you all sat down while they briefed you on the case. The victims were all different ages and body types, and the causes of death were all different, but they were all killed in their homes, which were all seemingly locked up tight. So far, there was nothing to connect the victims, no hex bags, no sulfur, but someone new was dying every night. Sam was researching witches and spells that could make what was happening possible, but he also wanted to research everyone that had died in the last 50 years and anything a ghost might be attached to. Not to mention all the other possible monsters who had the ability to teleport. There were just too many possibilities for Sam to track down everything himself.

Once you and John were briefed, the party broke up. Everyone headed to bed except you, Cas, Sam, and John. You tried to convince John to go to bed, since you knew he hadn’t slept, but he insisted on staying up and researching. While Sam kept looking for witchy clues, you showed John how to use his laptop to search for other monsters by tapping into the MoL database that you and Sam had set up. It wasn’t complete, but it was still vast. In the meantime, Cas decided to drive around town and see if anything pinged on his angelic radar.

About an hour into your research, you peeked over at John and saw him asleep on the couch with the laptop still in his lap, fingers resting on the keyboard. Smiling, you got up and removed the laptop from his lap, straightened him out so he was laying down, and covered him with a blanket. Resisting the urge to kiss his forehead in front of Sam, you sat back down and shook off the nervous energy you suddenly had from wondering if Sam knew how you felt about his father. Dean knew that you’d once had a crush on their dad, but no one knew how serious it had been, or still was, now that he was back.

As you were settling back into poring through death records, you felt Sam’s eyes on you. He had a gentle smile on his face that would make his brother complain about chick flick moments if he were there to see it. Worried about what he might be thinking, you stared back and said, “What?”

Sam shook his head, his hair falling into his face. “Nothing. Just thinking about how you’ve always taken care of us. You and Bobby. I don’t know where we’d be without you. And now, here you are, taking care of Dad, too.”

You shook your head and waved him off. “It’s no biggie, Sam, I just covered him with a blanket. He didn’t sleep much last night. I took naps on the drive here today, but he didn’t. I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“The hunt go late last night or something?”

“Nah. It was a small pack, and with Garth there, it was nothing. Your dad even had time to go to the bar and get himself a bottle of whiskey to bring back to the motel. When I got back, he was passed out on the bed. We slept for a few hours, but he had nightmares, so we spent the last half of the night watching _Star Wars_.” Sam chuckled, and you shook your head. “He just needs some time to get settled in and feel normal.”

“Nightmares from the hunt?” Sam asked, even more quietly than before.

You shook your head. “No. Like I said, the hunt was easy. I think some of it’s Hell. He was calling out for all of us, and Mary.”

Sam’s face fell, and he ducked his head to try and hide it, but you saw it, anyway. “I guess you’re not really a Winchester without nightmares like that.” He wiped a hand over his face and gave you a weak smile. “At least we kept you and Mom from it.”

Heat rose to your face. “I’m not a Winchester, Sam.”

Sam grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “Yeah, Bigs. You are.”

Smiling like an idiot, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Sam.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt drags on and everyone needs to blow off steam.

When you and Sam couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, Sam hit Jody’s second couch, in spite of you arguing that he’d do better on the air mattress in Claire’s room.

“You got him through last night. If he wakes up tonight, it’s my turn.”

Taking his head in your hands, you kissed his forehead and headed into Claire’s room. Dean stirred as soon as you opened the door, and insisted you not bother with blowing up the air mattress and just climb into Claire’s bed with him. You were asleep before your head even hit the pillow.

The next morning, you woke up to the smells of breakfast and an empty bed. Tossing on a robe, you headed out to find food and found a full table of people laughing and talking.

“Dude. I’m surprised you’re even up this early. You always sleep late when you bunk with Y/N,” Sam said to Dean with a smirk.

“That woman has a mean right hook, even when she’s asleep. I got out before she could beat the crap out of me,” Dean replied, waving a forkful of pancake around.

Moving into the room, you ruffled Dean’s hair from behind him, almost making him choke on his food. “It’s all in self-defense, Lima Bean. You kick like a kangaroo on acid.”

Claire and Alex both snorted and laughed, almost sending food flying out of their mouths.

“Lima Bean?” Claire asked, eyebrows lifted and a mischievous smile in place.

Dean turned bright red and looked all around the room, like an answer to his embarrassment was a fly he was trying to catch. He finally glanced at Claire and said weakly, “You’re a … lima bean.” Hardening his expression, he pointed his fork at the teenager and barked, “Shut up.”

Everyone but Dean laughed at that, leaving him to have to try and reclaim his authority. “All right, all right, enough joking around, we have a case to work.” He looked around the table and started barking out assignments. Alex still had school, but everyone else at the table was given something to do. Deciding that fresh eyes on the crime scene might help, Dean assigned you to shadow Jody at the newest murder and whatever else came up that day, while he would take John to the older crime scenes to get his opinion. Cas and Sam would continue Cas’s aimless driving around town to search for anything else weird that might be happening that wasn’t hitting the papers or the police blotter. Claire would pick up on research by herself until Dean and John returned, then they would join her. This way, those who’d been researching got a chance to see what was going on outside and vice versa, ensuring that if a connection could be made between the evidence and the lore, it would be.

On the drive to the station, Jody interrogated you while she had you captive. “So, that John, he’s something else, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you gave your friend a hard look. “I have no idea what you’re getting at, Jody, but you can strike whatever thought you’re harboring right out of your mind.”

Jody tried to look innocent and shook her head. “I didn’t mean anything! Just that’s he’s tall, and good-looking, and pretty much legendary, from what I understand.”

Patiently, you agreed. “Yes, he is all of those things. What I didn’t learn from my parents, I learned from John. He’s a good man, and a good hunter.”

A moment of silence fell between you, but you knew Jody wasn’t done.

“And you like him.”

You gave Jody an irritated glare. “Of course, I like him. If I didn’t like him, I wouldn’t have spent half my life hunting with him or babysitting his kids. Like I said, he’s a good man.”

“No, I mean, you like him differently than you like his boys. I saw how you were looking at him when you got here last night.”

Closing your eyes, you groaned. “Really, Jody? Are we in high school?”

If Jody weren’t a badass sheriff/hunter, you’d swear she practically giggled. “Hey, gotta do something to stay young, right?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “You’re terrible.”

“Yes, I am terrible, but I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Ugh. Fine. Yes. I’ve had a crush on the man since I met him when I was 15 and he was twice my age, freshly widowed, with two babies to take care of and revenge to find. But in all the years I spent watching his kids or hunting with him, he never once looked at me twice. Now that he’s back, and he’s lost his _soulmate_ for the second time, I sincerely doubt anything will change, so you can stop whatever thoughts are going through your mind.”

Jody winced. “His soulmate? Yikes.”

“Yeah. They shared a heaven, which means they were soulmates. Spent ten years in heaven together, finally reunited, just to come back topside for a day and a half and lose her again. Only this time, there’s no reuniting in Heaven. She was completely destroyed. Soul and all. There’s no coming back from that.”

Jody whistled. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Worst part of the whole thing is, she died protecting Dean, so he’s a mess, too, though he’s hiding it really well.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence fell between you while Jody processed everything you said.

“You know, I used to think you and Dean had a thing, until the first time I heard you call him Lima Bean.” Jody burst out laughing, and her laughter proved to be contagious. “You just don’t call a man you’ve been romantically involved with Lima Bean, you know?”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you had to agree with her. “No, I guess you really don’t.”

The hunt seemed to never end. After three more days with no more idea what was happening than when you started, everyone was getting cranky. Dean brought home half a liquor store that night, while you got to enjoy some silly frou-frou drinks with Jody just for laughs. The worst part of the night was when you realized John was missing. You finally found him on Jody’s back porch. He was sitting on the steps, drinking straight from a bottle of bourbon.

Sitting down next to him, you grabbed the bottle from his hands and took a swig before he could even complain. His movements were slow and ineffective, so you knew he was seriously drunk, already, even before he spoke. When he opened his mouth, his words were slurred, and you decided to put the bottle down where he couldn’t reach it.

“Hey! Zat’s my bottle give i’back,” John slurred, his righteous indignation disappearing to nothing by the end of his sentence as he realized you could overpower him. You swatted his hands away from where you hid the bottle on the other side of you, and his shoulders slumped down. After some work, he managed to prop his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. “Okay, mebbe I should quit while I’m ahead.”

Gently, so as not to knock him over, you nudged his shoulder with yours. “I know we’re all doing our share of blowing off steam, tonight, but you’re not steaming, you’re stewing. What’s got you simmering, John?” You knew you’d had one too many, too, when you took a moment to consider your own sentence.

John was quiet for so long, you thought he wasn’t going to answer you. Crickets chirped in the yard while fireflies danced lazily in the summer night air. You almost forgot you had asked a question, your entire focus suddenly drawn to the warmth of the man sitting beside you. Early summer in Sioux Falls still brings chilly nights, and John’s warmth against your side was soothing. Your head had almost fallen onto his shoulder when he finally spoke.

“Mary.”

Your head immediately righted itself, suddenly not wanting to fall anywhere near John’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if I said this before or not, but I’m so sorry.”

John nodded, his head still being held up by his hands. “You did, and I know. So am I. It should have been me. I should have been the one to step in front of Dean, not her. I should have been the one that divine bitch disintegrated, not Mary. My boys already spent twenty years dealing with me being fucked up without her, they don’t need twenty more of that. They need time with her, not me. They need her.” His shoulders shook as his voice dissolved into a choked-off sob.

Feeling tears welling up in your own eyes, you threw an arm around his shoulders and tried to comfort the big man. He curled into a ball and fell over into your lap, his hands still covering his face. Rubbing one hand up and down his arm, you ran the fingers of your other hand through his hair to try and soothe him while he cried. Years of helping your boys deal with nightmares since they were children had you cradling John like you did his sons, humming one of your favorite lullabies to try and calm him. Part of you was freaking out at having the great John Winchester prostrate in your lap and sobbing, never having seen the man be anything but angry and commanding when upset. The rest of you just wanted to do what you were doing and hope it comforted him.

When his tears finally dried, he tried to pull away from you, but you didn’t let go. “It’s okay, John,” you said, still stroking his hair. “It’s okay.”

John relaxed back into your hold, pulling his legs up off the step to rest on the porch.

“Dean and Sam are the finest men I know, John. I mean, would it be nice if they could have had more time with their mom? Yes. But they aren’t lesser men because of it. And I don’t want you thinking that they don’t need you, too. It took them a long time to figure out how to live without you. Once you get back in the swing of things, you’ll see.”

As you continued humming and stroking John’s hair, you tamped down the part of you that wanted him to turn over, look up at you, and kiss you. You ignored the part of you that was thrilled to feel his hair and his solid warmth against you, because he wasn’t here for you. He was here because he missed his wife, his soulmate. You were a comfortable place to release his grief, and that was all.

After a couple more minutes, John completely passed out in your lap. You tried to rouse him to lead him back into the house, but he wouldn’t wake, so you pulled out your phone and texted the boys. A few minutes later, the door behind you opened and Dean and Sam came out to help you. As Dean got him settled on Claire’s bed, Sam gave you a hug and thanked you again for taking care of their dad.


	14. 1991

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1991 - Nightmares

_1991_

_The steam from your shower followed you out of the motel bathroom, partially obscuring your view of the boys for a second. It cleared, quickly, though, since the room was so cold. You’d banged on the heater and fiddled with the dials, all to no avail. If your Dad was still alive, you’d have called him, but he and your mom had seen the wrong end of a Wendigo with Bill Harvelle. Bill had barely escaped with his life and had lost two toes to frostbite trying to get back to civilization. You considered calling Bobby, but spring was coming, so it wasn’t supposed to be that cold. You could hold out until morning and have a stern talk with the motel manager._

_Dean and Sam were bundled up together on one bed, and you were supposed to take the other. Dean was getting big enough that he’d start wanting his own bed, soon. He already did, when it was an option. Sometimes, he’d just sleep on the couch, if there was one. He hadn’t made any moves to sleep on his own tonight, though. He’d been quieter than usual when you’d met them today, and you were worried, but you knew he’d come to you when he was ready, and not a moment before._

_You were buried in the middle of a trashy romance novel when Dean jerked awake, startling both you and Sam. “What’s up, Lima Bean? You okay?”_

_Dean sat up, taking heaving breaths and running his hands through his hair. He shook his head and waved you off, not saying a word. Memories of 5-year old Dean waking up in a similar fashion flickered through your mind. Oh, Dean._

_“Hey, Dean, do you mind if I bunk with you and Sam tonight? This room is too cold for me to sleep by myself. We’re not too cool to share, yet, right?”_

_Sam turned to face you with a wide grin. “Yeah, Y/N! We can share, right Dean?”_

_Dean’s eyes were grateful as he shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, sure. I guess we could do that for you. Can’t have you freezing over there by yourself. Who would make us breakfast?”_

_You put your book away while Sam got out of bed and held the covers open, so you could be in the middle. While Sam curled into your side, his head on your shoulder and his arm thrown across your belly, Dean put his back to you. Dean’s head still rested on your shoulder, though, your arm curling around his narrow shoulders and resting on his arm. Sam fell back to sleep right away, his breathing getting heavy almost before the covers were situated. Dean, however, took longer to settle, twitching and sighing every few minutes. You stroked his arm and kissed his head, but nothing seemed to settle him._

_You tried humming a lullaby, but Dean seemed to twitch more._

_“Is that from that chick flick you were watching last time we saw you?”_

_You smiled, knowing he couldn’t see it. “Yeah. ‘Beaches.’ I didn’t think you saw enough of it to recognize it.” you whispered, not wanting to wake up Sam._

_“Well, you were bawling your eyes out, so I didn’t hear much.” You started humming again, but you still felt tension in his body, even though he wasn’t talking._

_“Mom used to sing ‘Hey, Jude’ because it was her favorite Beatles song. Sammy won’t remember, but it put him out like a light.”_

_“Want me to sing that instead?”_

_Dean shook his head. You went back to humming your lullaby, but Dean was still restless._

_“Hey, Dean? If you could have a lifetime supply of any food in the world, what would it be?”_

_The boy leaned back so he could scowl at you. “Pie! Why?”_

_“Just asking. What kind of pie? Remember, you’ll be eating this pie for the rest of your life.”_

_Dean screwed his face into a thoughtful pout. “Apple. No, Pecan! No, maybe… can I have two kinds?”_

_You chuckled, squeezing his shoulders. “For you, sure! Now, what if someone said you had to take a lifetime supply of stuffed animals, but they’d only be one animal? What animal would you want?”_

_Dean groaned. “Why would someone force me to take stuffed animals? They’re for girls and babies!”_

_“Because they’re gonna take away your pie if you don’t take the stuffed animals. So, what’s it gonna be? What kind of stuffed animal would you be willing to have a couple hundred of?”_

_Dean yawned and settled further, his back pressing into your side and his head on your shoulder. You could just barely see his eyes in this position, but they looked like they were drooping. “Tigers. Tigers are cool.”_

_“Hey, Lima Bean? You remember I told you my parents passed away recently?”_

_Dean nodded against your shoulder._

_“Well, I’ve been having nightmares, sometimes, since it happened. When I get them, I just need someone to give me a hug and tell me it’s okay. Would you be willing to do that for me, Dean?”_

_Dean nodded again. “Sure, Y/N. I can do that.”_

_You squeezed him tightly and sighed. “Thanks, Dean. Sometimes I forget that I have people like you in my life. People who love me the way I love them, and who will be there for me like you are. Thanks for being there for me, Dean. And if you ever need it, I’ll always be there for you, too, okay?”_

_Dean nodded but didn’t say anything. You went back to humming and continued stroking his arm until he fell asleep a few minutes later._


	15. 2002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2002 - Sam's gone and John's being an ass. You and Dean deal.

_2002_

_Sam had left John and Dean for Stanford, and all three men were being too stubborn to even contact each other. Sam was your baby, though, and you weren’t a stubborn ass, so you had to try._

> 7/16/02 3:18PM You _– Dean told me you left and why. I understand. I’m hunting with your dad and brother for a while. Send up a flare if you need me, Smalls._
> 
> 9/2/02 10:42AM You _– The country takes a holiday, but hunting doesn’t. Thinking about you getting settled in. Hope you’re okay. Miss you._
> 
> 10/31/02 8:05AM You _– I hate this fucking holiday. Hope it’s different for you this year._
> 
> 11/2/02 11:48PM You _– I hope you’re getting these messages, Smalls. I’m always here for you if you need me. Miss you._
> 
> 11/28/02 5:39PM You _– Now that you’re a civilian, do you get actual food, or do broke college students eat crap, too?_
> 
> 12/24/02 12:56PM You _– Your father’s an ass and your brother… well, he’s your brother. I’m assuming you’re okay and just ignoring me, since I haven’t seen anything out of Palo Alto that would tell me otherwise. If I don’t hear from you by New Year’s, I’m hauling ass to come find you. We don’t have to talk, just tell me you’re okay._
> 
> 12/24/02 12:58PM Sam _– I’m okay._
> 
> 12/24/02 12:59PM You _– Thank God. I miss you. Call me if you need anything._
> 
> 12/24/02 1:13PM Sam _– Miss you, too._

_Dean stormed into the motel room as you were putting down your phone, tears in your eyes. He stomped the snow off of his boots and growled at the cold while he shook snow off of his jacket and draped it over one of the chairs. “Dad’s a goddamn fucking idiot deciding to drive to a fucking hunt in this goddamn weather,” he groused, rubbing his arms to warm them as he carried the case of beer over to the fridge. When you didn’t say anything, he turned to you and cocked his head to the side, squinting as he tried to figure out what was wrong. When he failed, he finally said, “Alright, spill. What’s wrong?”_

_You shook your head. “Nothing.” You gave him a bright, but slightly teary, smile. “Nothing at all.”_

_Dean’s spidey senses told him you were hiding something, so he stomped over to where you were sitting on the bed and sat down next to you. “Hey, Bigs, I know Dad’s an ass. I mean, you outright asked him to stick around for the holiday and he bolted so fast I thought the door was gonna hit him on his way out. But you’ve still got me, and if it weren’t whiteout conditions out there, then we’d be halfway to Sioux Falls by now.” He wrapped his arms around you and crushed you to his chest. “I know your parents made a big deal about Christmas, and I don’t get it, but we’ll figure something out, okay?”_

_Your tears finally fell, and you sniffled into his chest. “That’s not it, Dean. I mean, I love that you’d do stuff for me, but that’s not why I’m blubbering.” You took a deep breath. “I finally heard from Sam. He’s okay.”_

_Dean stiffened, then all the bluster and fight seemed to drain from him. “He’s okay?”_

_“That’s what he said. That’s all he said. I threatened to go out there and track his ass down if he didn’t answer, so he answered.” You pulled in a ragged breath. “He’s okay, and that’s just the best news I’ve heard in a while, you know?”_

_Dean rubbed your arms and kissed your head. “Yeah, I know.”_

_The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes before breaking apart awkwardly and finding something on TV to capture your attention while the storm raged outside. You talked about shopping for gifts if the storm let up, but Dean peeked out the curtain and shook his head. Instead of wasting money buying gifts, you challenged each other to come up with the craziest gift you could think of to get for the other one. Dean said he’d get you a jacuzzi, since you always griped about not being able to take a bath after a hunt and loved Bobby’s bathtub so much. You said you’d get him a garage with all the bells and whistles, so he could work on his Baby in style._

_When it came time to go to bed, you fell into your separate beds, but neither of you fell asleep. You heard Dean tossing and turning like he used to when he was young and something was on his mind._

_“Hey, Dean,” you said, quietly enough that if he really was asleep you wouldn’t wake him._

_“Yeah, Bigs?”_

_You scooched over and lifted up the covers facing him. “C’mere.”_

_Dean scoffed. “Bigs, I haven’t had to sleep with you since I was 14.”_

_“Sammy shared a bed with me all the time,” you pointed out._

_“Yeah, and I don’t have girly hair like Sammy, either.”_

_You waved the covers around a bit and griped, “Get your ass in here, Winchester, you’re making me let out all the warmth.”_

_Dean grumbled and groaned, but came over to your bed, laying down facing away from you. You dropped the covers over the both of you and fit yourself around him, making him the little spoon._

_“Why do I hafta be the little spoon?”_

_“Because the last time we did this, you were the big spoon, and you complained about eating my hair. Suck it up, Lima Bean, you’re my little spoon.” Dean grumbled quietly, but wrapped his arm around yours, which was draped over his stomach. Quietly, so quietly you didn’t think he’d hear you, you mumbled, “And you’ll always be my little spoon, no matter how big you get.”_

_You felt Dean huff, but he tangled his fingers with yours and fell asleep almost instantly._


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt finally ends and everyone celebrates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this way before Wayward Sisters was a thing, so forgive me for veering so far astray from what Claire and Alex have actually been doing.

You and the Winchesters had been camped out at Jody’s for more than a week when you finally caught and killed the witch responsible. She had been scaring, and sometimes killing, people with their greatest fear, or a classic movie monster if she couldn’t figure out what made their skin crawl. Every person had snubbed or demeaned her in some way, and she tried to make the severity of the punishment fit the crime. One victim who was arachnophobic, but had only ignored her, just had a house full of harmless spiders. Had the victim done anything more heinous, the spiders may have been tarantulas. You never did figure out how she was doing it without hex bags, but after a week of chasing your tails, you didn’t care. Ding dong, the Wicked Witch was dead!

The Winchesters decided to celebrate at a local bar, while you, Jody, Claire, and Alex stayed home and had a girls’ night. Alex showed the rest of you about the DIY spa treatments one of her friends at school had taught her, and you all sat around talking about boyfriends and the girls’ futures with green muck on your faces. Alex was leaving for college in a few months, having gotten a scholarship at a school that was just far enough away that she’d be on her own, but not so far away she couldn’t come back whenever she felt the urge. Claire was still trying to balance hunting and classes at the local community college and was having some trouble whenever actual hunts came up. Luckily, hunts were few and far between, so she was doing okay in most of her classes.

When the girls had had enough of hanging out with the old ladies, they went off to watch something on Netflix or something, leaving just you and Jody. You pulled out some of the bottles left over from the mid-hunt stash that Dean had bought and started swapping relationship stories. Jody told you that she had gone out on a couple of dates with a deputy from one of the surrounding counties, but she wasn’t sure how serious it was going to get. You told her about the couple of nights you had had here and there since you’d last seen her, and she pretended to be jealous, even though you knew very well she wasn’t. You both got quiet for a minute while you tried to figure out how to work her blender to make a margarita, but you felt Jody’s eyes on you.

“I know what you and Dean and Sam have always said about hunters and relationships, but you have been with those boys almost their whole lives. Haven’t you ever wanted to go find another hunter and make a go of it?”

You shook your head while you continued trying to put the blender together, your hand to eye coordination suffering badly after the drinks you’d already had. “I did. I tried. But Winchesters are hard to beat, ya know? No one else ever really measured up.”

Jody took the blender parts out of your hand and put it together herself. “Then why didn’t you ever, you know?”

Pouring copious amounts of tequila into the blender, you shrugged your shoulders unevenly. “He never looked at me twice. I know he wasn’t a monk, but he never saw me that way.”

Starting the blender stalled the conversation for a while until the noise died down and your drinks were poured. The two of you stood in the kitchen, then, sipping your drinks and trying not to cough at the awful mess you’d made.

“You’re older now. Doesn’t that change things? Don’t you want more?”

You half nodded, half shrugged your shoulders. “I’m older now than my parents were when they died. I’ve already got more than I ever thought I’d have. I have a home. I have a family, of sorts. I even have the man I want, no matter that it isn’t exactly in the way I want him. I never thought I’d live past thirty, much less have any of that. I’m good, Jody. I’m better than good.”

Jody shrugged her shoulders and said, “All right, then,” lifting her glass to toast you silently before taking another sip. You both finished off your glasses and grimaced, shaking your heads and laughing.

“Dear lord, don’t ever let me do that again. That was awful. I am not a bartender!” you exclaimed, pushing the blender away from you dramatically. While you and Jody were laughing, John came around the corner and flashed one of his disarming smiles at the two of you.

“Looks like you two had fun without us,” he said, leaning against the entrance to Jody’s kitchen.

You smiled at John and waved your empty glass in the air, suddenly feeling the effects of the tequila. “We learned that I can’t make a margarita for shit, no matter how much tequila I use.” John and Jody both laughed while you put your glass in the sink and scolded it firmly saying, “Stay put.”

“Well, I just wanted to let you know that we’re all back. Dean has claimed the bed, saying he needs the good bed because he’s driving tomorrow. Sam and I are taking the couches, since we figure you’d want the air mattress for the same reason.”

You gave John a sloppy salute, then frowned at your hand, almost crossing your eyes in the process. “10-4, drill sergeant,” you said in a stern voice, making both you and Jody giggle. “Holy cow, I should go to bed if I’m gonna be sober to drive home tomorrow.”

Jody waved you off, saying her goodnights, and John led you back to Claire’s room, where you fell onto the bed next to Dean instead of onto the air mattress. Dean stirred next to you, and you heard him tell John he’d take care of you, and the door clicked shut. In a few minutes, Dean had you ready for bed and tucked under the covers, his back pressed up against yours.

Before sleep completely overtook you, you managed to mumble, “G’night, Lima Bean.”

From the other side of the bed, you heard, “Night, Bigs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't help but wonder how much John heard, and what he may have thought she meant?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deans asks you for a favor.

For the drive back to the bunker, John decided to ride with Dean in the hopes that Dean might let him drive at least a little bit. You hoped they wouldn’t butt heads like they did in the old days. Sam got in with you, and you had a pleasant drive listening to music that was made during the current century. When you got back, you found out that Ellen, Jo, and Charlie had returned a few days before. Charlie was teaching Jo the finer points of internet research, in exchange for Jo teaching Charlie more about weapons. Ellen was getting comfortable in the kitchen, and Bobby was eager to talk to you about the library and the phone support for the hunter network. You all enjoyed a terrific meal made by Ellen, and then you headed to your room to unpack and get settled back in.

As you were thinking of heading to bed, there was a knock on your door. Dean came in and sat down on the bed facing you with a serious expression. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and grimaced while you waited for him to find the words he wanted.

“Do you remember the night before we went up against Lucifer with the Colt?” Dean’s eyes dropped for a moment, then rose back up to you. “You know, the night before Jo and Ellen died.”

“Yeah, Dean. I remember.” Dean’s face tinted pink, so you tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“You remember that was the first time I pulled that ‘last night on Earth’ line out for you?”

You nodded, thinking you knew where this was going, but knowing Dean needed to tell you.

“Well, you weren’t the first one to hear that line that night.”

Laughing, you put a hand on his arm. “Crap, Dean, I knew that!”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah, I did! I saw you talking with Jo a little earlier, and I saw her tear you down like it was nothing. You’re just lucky Ellen was too busy trying to drink an angel under the table, or she would’ve had your hide.”

Dean smiled and nodded, ducking his head to stare at his fingers picking imaginary lint off the hem of his shirt. “Well, Jo overheard me the night before we put Amara away, doing my usual with you. After everyone went to bed, she snuck into my room. We had a long talk, and then we stopped talking, and….” Dean’s blush got even deeper, his ears finally beginning to match his cheeks, but he still waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ah, I see,” you said quietly. “Just in case she went back to Heaven, she didn’t want any regrets this time.”

Dean nodded, then started looking uncomfortable again. “Yeah. But now she’s staying, and,” Dean searched the walls for the right words, “damn, I sound like a 13-year old girl right now.”

You chuckled. “Okay, I’ll make it easy for you. Are you looking for a way out, or a way in?”

Dean looked ridiculously relieved and gave you a wide grin. “In. We both want in. But we have no idea if it’s going to work or not, and I don’t want Ellen to skin me alive before we can figure it out.”

Giving Dean a gentle smile, you put your hand on his cheek. “Dean, you have grown into such a good man. You’re not the same kid you were back then. You’ve saved the world several times. You’ve been in a long-term relationship and you made it work until the world crushed it. You have a stable home that’s also safe and filled with family. I sincerely doubt Ellen would disapprove.”

“Even if she did approve, she’d be all over us about it, and we really just want some time to figure it out ourselves.” Dean was giving you his best set of puppy eyes, the ones you could never resist.

“Alright, alright. I disagree, but I guess that doesn’t matter. What do you want from me? My blessing?”

“I just want you to help cover us for a while. Until we know that this isn’t just end-of-the-world stuff. If it is, we’ll end it, and she never needs to know. If not, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Cover for you? How?”

“I don’t know! Tell people we’re not together when we are! Give excuses for why we’re together if we get caught together! Just do whatever you need to do to make sure no one knows before we’re ready for them to know!”

You stared at Dean with wide eyes. “You really think I can pull one over on Ellen? The woman is a human lie detector and I practically turn into Pinocchio under stress!”

Dean stammered, knowing that this was true. “I—I, uh, oh, I don’t know, Bigs! I just know that we’ll need someone to have our back, and you’ve always had mine. I know I can count on you!”

You rolled your eyes and then glared at the elder of the two boys you’d given your heart to over 30 years ago. You knew you’d agree. You couldn’t deny them anything. If Dean wanted you to cover for him and Jo, you’d cover for him and Jo to the best of your ability.

“Fine. I’ll try and jump in and do what I can. I make no guarantees that somebody won’t see right through me, but I’ll try.”

Dean threw his arms around you into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you, Bigs! I’ll owe you one!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you squeaked out, still trying to breathe inside of Dean’s vice-like hold.

After Dean left, you snuggled down into your bed, thinking about Dean and Jo, and hoping they worked out. Dean deserved something good like that in his life.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a bit of an existential crisis.

Over the next few weeks, everyone tried to find a routine that worked best for them. Ellen hunted with Bobby and Charlie, John hunted with his sons, you hunted with Jo, and then everybody switched again. Bobby finally decided that he would stay at the bunker unless needed as backup. He said he was just getting too old to be running around the country, but you thought that perhaps Ellen also saying she preferred to stay home might have had something to do with it.

The times when John was in the bunker between hunts were the ones that tore at your heart. You’d find him standing in the library or the armory or the garage just staring at everything, completely lost in his thoughts. When you found him staring at the shelves in the pantry one day, you finally confronted him about it.

Even though your hand on his arm was gentle, he still jumped, having obviously been so lost in thought he didn’t hear you approach. “What’s up, John? This is not the first time I’ve seen you staring into space like this.”

John shook his head and tried to wave you off. “Nothing. Just getting lost in my head, I guess. Nothing to worry about.” He backed away and tried to walk past you, but you held onto him.

“No, John. I’m not the naïve girl who’s babysitting your kids, anymore. I won’t accept a brush-off, this time. I’m a grown woman who knows how to deal with shit, I want to help, and I asked you a question. What’s wrong?”

John took a step back, trying to shake your hand from his arm, but you held fast, and his eyes widened in shock. “Now, look,” he started, anger flaring in his eyes as he faced you down, but you didn’t budge. His words failed him as his eyes searched your face. His shoulders slumped, and he let out all of the hot air that had puffed him up. Your heart ached at the sight of him looking so tired and pained.

“I want to help, John, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s wrong. Tell me what’s wrong and let me help.” Your grip on him relaxed and you began rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

His eyes went back to the shelves, taking in the stores that you and Ellen had worked hard to bring home and organize. Now that there were so many mouths to feed, food preparation had to be a more organized affair. Getting takeout for 8 people wasn’t cheap.

“This is so different. Everything is so different. Before I died, hunting meant being on your own, constantly moving from crappy motel to crappy motel, eating greasy diner food because you wouldn’t live long enough for the cholesterol to kill you. You had your own journal to keep track of what was out there, and the knowledge of any hunters who were willing to take your call. If you were lucky, you were friends with Bobby, who knew just about anything, and if he didn’t know, he knew where to look to find out. You had maybe ten different weapons and made them work for whatever you came across.

“Now, there’s a place that’s warded so completely no one can find it, with a library bigger than my first house, an armory that would make a small country jealous, and all the comforts of home. I’m getting home-cooked meals on the regular, watching TV shows and movies through the internet, and taking orders from my kids and their babysitter.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. _The babysitter._

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

John paused to take a breath. “And I’m not even going to get into all the ways actual hunting has changed. First time I dealt with a demon, I spent a hundred years in Hell. I’ve been back less than two months, been in on two deals with Crowley, and then went home, ate a meal that couldn’t be beat, and crawled into a bed made of something that somehow remembers me.” He wiped his hand over his face, scratching his beard along the way. “Sometimes, I just can’t wrap my mind around it all, that’s all.”

 “Adjusting is going to take time. You’ll get used to it, eventually.”

John nodded. “I know. It just sneaks up on me every now and again.” His eyes scanned the shelves again, but his expression seemed even more lost. You tugged on his sleeve and moved you both over to the table where you could sit.

“What else, John? Talk to me.” You tried to keep your voice gentle, so he wouldn’t feel pressured, but you wanted him to open up to you.

“When I was in high school, it was all, ‘Graduate, get a good job, have a family, raise a family.’ But then the war happened. I quit school and joined the Marines. ‘Kill them, protect your own, never leave a man behind.’ Easy. I hadn’t been home from the war long when I met Mary. ‘Get married, make her happy, have a family, be a good dad, raise a family.’ Simple. When Mary died, I was lost, until I met Missouri and she explained things to me. Something was after Sammy and killed my wife to get him. The focus changed. ‘Protect Sammy, kill the thing that killed Mary and wants Sammy.’ But, now…”

You saw where John was going, but knew he needed to say it, himself.

“Now…Mary’s gone, the thing that killed her is locked away, the boys have raised themselves with a lot of help from everyone else in this bunker except me, and there’s nothing left for me to do. I hunt, but it’s because it’s the only thing I know how to do. I’m getting old, Y/N. Bobby and Ellen aren’t that much older than I am, and they’ve basically decided to take their second chance and retire. I mean, they’re doing their part around here, but they’re not going out and hunting. I think about doing the same thing, but what would I do? Ellen’s taken over the kitchen, Bobby has the library, and there isn’t much to do besides that.” John’s head fell as he stared at his hands. “I need to know what I’m supposed to do.”

Wrapping an arm around his strong back, you leaned against his side, setting your head on his shoulder. “Anything else?”

John chuckled. “You mean, besides the existential crisis in a world I can’t seem to wrap my head around?”

Smiling up at him, you pushed him gently. “Yeah, besides that.”

“Nah, I think that’s enough for one day, don’t you?”

Chucking, you nodded. “Okay. Want to hear my advice?”

He looked like a drowning man who saw you holding a life preserver. “Fuck yeah.”

“Okay. When you weren’t in the war, and before hunting, outside of raising a family, what were you doing?”

John looked thoughtful, stroking his beard. “I was a mechanic.”

“Was there anything else you enjoyed doing?”

“I had hobbies. You know, building stuff, fixing things, that kind of thing. I had a shed out back I used to work in. Mary hated that shed. Said it was full of useless junk. I used to love tinkering around back there.”

You stared at John while you thought. “Well, it sounds to me like you just need to find your place here. You need a job. Something that is yours to do when you’re not out on a hunt.”

John looked at you suspiciously. “Okaaaaaay….”

“Well, Dean already works on the cars in the garage when he’s bored, so that’s out. What about the armory?”

“What about it?”

You shrugged. “I’m not a weapons expert, and don’t have a mind for how things work, but you have weapons experience and an engineering mind. Maybe your job is to keep the armory up to date and stocked.”

John looked skeptical. “That doesn’t sound like much.”

“Well, I’ve also wondered if there are ways to improve on the weapons we have. Cas once told me that Crowley had his demons melt down an angel blade and turn it into bullets. We don’t have enough angel blades for an infinite supply, but it would make killing demons a hell of a lot easier. Not to mention the other kinds of bullets we make by hand: devil’s trap bullets and witch-killing bullets. Maybe there’s a way to turn other kinds of spells and such into something we can load into a gun? Maybe you can come up with a holster for some of our more unusual weapons? My angel blade keeps putting holes in all of my jacket pockets. There’s got to be a fix for that, and I’m sure you can come up with it!”

John still looked skeptical, but his mouth was turning up into a little smile.

“You’re the man who tracked a demon on paper in a way that made an MIT genius’s head spin. I’m sure you can find new ways for us to use what we have, and maybe even design new weapons to make hunting easier!” You were getting really caught up in your idea, and could only hope that John was, too.

John’s smile finally broke through as his eyes tracked invisible problems and possible solutions in the air. “Yeah! Maybe I could.” He focused on you for a second, then kissed your head as he got up from the table. “Thanks, Y/N!” he tossed over his shoulder as he ran out the door.

You sighed deeply, feeling your scalp tingle where his lips had been. It didn’t matter that he’d never love you back, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt sometimes.


	19. 2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2000 - You need help on a hunt, so you call Bobby, who sends you the Winchesters.

_2000_

_The familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine had you looking up from your research as you sat in your “borrowed” Datsun sedan. Whatever was in these woods was eating campers but leaving too much to be a Wendigo. You had considered werewolves, but they were taking more than just hearts. All you knew was that this was bigger than you could handle. Bobby had said that he’d send the Winchesters, since they were the closest._

_You hadn’t seen the Winchesters in a couple of years, now that Sam was old enough to be left on his own. Sam was 14 when John had all but stopped calling you to stay with him. Since then, it was just mutual hunts or coincidence when you saw them. You missed them so much it hurt sometimes, but that was life. As the doors opened, your eyes bugged out. Dean was now 21 and seemed to have lost all of his baby fat. Sam was going to be 17 soon, but he was already almost as tall as Dean._

_You hopped out of your car and almost ran towards your boys._

_Sam grabbed you first, wrapping you up into a huge, tight hug and almost lifting you off of your feet. “It’s so good to see you, Bigs. I’ve missed you so much,” Sam said quietly into your ear._

_“Hey, hey, hey, let her go, Sammy! We need her alive to brief us on this hunt!” Dean smacked Sam’s arm until his little brother let you go, then picked you up himself. “God, Bigs, it’s good to see you,” he mumbled into your ear, almost as quietly as Sam had._

_When Dean finally let you go, you turned to John, who just gave you a quick smile before getting down to business. “So, whatcha got, Y/N?”_

_You briefed them on what had been happening, trying to keep your attention on the information and not on John. Holy hell, he looked good. He looked tired and worn out, like any hunter, but he was getting a little grey in his beard, which just seemed to make him even sexier. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t picked out your tightest pair of jeans and the one top that was practical, yet showed off your assets, just in case this was the time John finally decided to look at you twice._

_As soon as you were done reciting the information, John took over._

_“All right, we’ll get our gear, head into the woods, and set up camp for tonight where the first family did. Tonight, we’ll take turns keeping watch, and tomorrow we start looking for clues. Questions?”_

_A shiver of arousal went down your spine, but you hoped you’d hidden it well. “Nope. Sounds good to me,” you exclaimed, perhaps a little too forcefully._

_The hike up the mountains was more exercise than you’d gotten in a while, and you started to fall behind. Dean moved behind with you to make sure nothing happened to you, and the two of you began to talk. Dean told you about the hunts he’d been on and the girls he’d dated, and you tried to do the same._

_“When Dad said we were meeting you, I thought for sure there’d be some douchebag here with you, calling you his girlfriend or somethin’.”_

_You gave Dean a sideways look. “You want to ask me a question, Dean?”_

_His face flushed, making you smile. “Yeah, Y/N. How come you’re still out here, hunting alone? Even I know it’s not safe to hunt alone, especially for a woman.” Dean immediately began to backpedal when he saw you turn to him with fire in your eyes. “I don’t mean you can’t kick ass, I’m just saying that everything’s tougher for a woman. People don’t take you as seriously, and you’re built different, so kicking ass is harder.” Dean relaxed when you finally stopped looking like you were about to school him on feminism. “Anyway, you know what I mean. You’re good-looking, you’re kickass, and you’re smart. Why hasn’t some asshole snatched you up?”_

_Your laughter rang out through the forest, actually sending some birds flying out of the trees. John looked back at you and grimaced, making you cover your mouth sheepishly. When John was once again facing away from you, you took the chance to look him over once again, forgetting that Dean was waiting for an answer._

_“Ohhhh. I get it. That’s why.” Dean had a smug smile on his face that you immediately wanted to smack._

_“What? Get what?”_

_Dean half shrugged and lowered his voice. “You like Dad. That’s why there’s no boyfriend.”_

_A tree root came up out of nowhere and nearly sent you flying. Dean grabbed your arm before you could get too far, putting you right before you got hurt._

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean Winchester,” you whispered angrily. “You shut your mouth!”_

_Dean laughed, again earning the two of you a glare from his father. “Uh huh. Keep talkin’, Bigs, and maybe I’ll believe ya!” You leveled a glare at Dean so potent he actually took a step away from you and put up his hands in surrender. “Hey! I don’t have a problem with it! It’s not your fault us Winchesters are so hard to resist!”_

_You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly gave yourself a headache. “Stuff it, Dean. You’re not all that and a bag of chips.”_

_Dean put his arm out and stopped you, turning to face you. “Hey. Seriously. I really am all that and a bag of chips, and you know it!” Dean’s smirk was so self-congratulatory you couldn’t contain your laughter, once again startling the birds from the trees._

_“Alright, you two, knock it off and get moving! More walking, less gossiping!” John’s face was nearly thunderous, and you flinched in shame. Both you and Dean resumed walking without looking at each other, heads down like good soldiers._

_It was almost another mile before Dean dared to speak up again. When he did, it was so quiet you almost couldn’t make out what he was saying._

_“Y/N and Daaaad sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”_

_You hit him in the shoulder so hard he spent the rest of the hike rubbing his arm and grumbling about crazy women and cheap shots._


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Big Secret stays secret. Sort of.

In the weeks after the witch hunt in Sioux Falls, Dean and Jo did their best to get “quality time” together without tipping people off about their relationship. Apparently, there were some close calls.

Bobby found a pair of panties in the back of the Impala one day, forcing Dean to have to invent a one-night stand he hadn’t really had time for during that particular hunt. Bobby reamed him for being with a girl instead of researching when people were dying.

Charlie overhead the two of them in Dean’s room one night, and banged on the door, yelling at Dean to put headphones on when he watched porn.

The worst, for you, was when John volunteered to do laundry. As he was washing Dean’s sheets, out slipped a delicate gold necklace. When John took it to Dean, Dean claimed it was yours. The only problem was, it was gold, and you only wore silver.

“Dean! What were you thinking?” you growled as he handed you the necklace with a sheepish half smile.

“I was thinking that my dad was gonna go straight to Ellen if I didn’t get him to back off! So, I told him it was yours. When he asked about the gold thing, I told him I’d given it to you, and I’m an idiot, which is why I got gold instead of silver, which is why you only wear it, you know, for me.” Dean’s words were nearly a mumble as he neared the end of his sentence, knowing how upset you’d be by what he was saying. He also ducked his head to hide his face while you built up a head of steam.

“Are you telling me, that you implied to your father that we are sleeping together?”

“No?” Dean looked at you hopefully, but you just glared. “Maybe?”

You smacked him upside the head and started pacing back and forth in your room while Dean stammered and tried to defend himself.

“To be fair, Bigs, apparently, he already thought something was up between us, so he actually made the assumption without me actually saying anything!”

You stopped your pacing and stared at Dean. “He _what??”_

“Well, you and I do share a bed sometimes, and he noticed. I mean, Bigs, to us and Sam, it’s nothing. The three of us have shared tiny motel rooms and beds since before he died, he just never knew about it. Now, he knows, and we’re both adults, so he jumped to the most obvious conclusion.” Dean shrugged, making you roll your eyes and cover your face with your hands. Dean’s arms wound around you, his hand cradling your head to his shoulder a bit awkwardly. “I know how you feel about him, Bigs, how you’ve always felt about him, and I’m sorry me and Jo are getting between you.”

Worming your arms from between you to around his middle, you settled into his hold. “It’s okay, Dean. He doesn’t feel the same way about me. Never has, never will, and I’ve accepted that. Even if he did before, you guys just lost Mary all over again. He’s not ready to move on.” The two of you stood there in each other’s arms for a few minutes, just enjoying the comfort you’d always provided for each other. Finally, you took a deep breath and broke away from him.

“All right. So, as far as John is concerned, you and I are together. Hopefully, he won’t go blabbing it around, so we don’t have to start kissing each other or something.”

Both of you jokingly grimaced at the idea and said, “Eww!” then chuckled, waving the idea off. Dean took the necklace, so he could return it to Jo with a warning not to wear it for a while.

A few days later, as you were eating your breakfast and trying to wake up with Ellen, Jo, and Charlie, Dean walked in and eyed all of you, rubbing his hands together like he’d just figured out how to win the lottery without playing.

“So! Which one of you wants to pretend to be my wife?”

You snuck glances at the women around you and stifled a giggle. Charlie looked disgusted and perplexed, Jo looked panicked, and Ellen looked like she just ate something sour.

“Boy, on what planet would anyone believe I was married to you?” Ellen asked, full of her usual sass and vinegar.

Charlie backed away from the table a little bit. “Would I have to kiss you? Because that might be where I draw the line.” She suppressed a shudder and tried to look apologetic.

Dean and Jo both looked at you. “Don’t look at me! We tried it on a case a few years ago, and the monster made us pretty quickly. Apparently, we’re not believable, either.”

Everyone looked at Jo, and you could clearly see her trying out her acting skills. “Then I guess it’s me,” she deadpanned, trying to look disgusted. She turned to Dean and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Fine, but if you try anything funny, you’ll be singing soprano for a week!”

Dean managed to look appropriately cowed, nodding seriously with frightened eyes. “Gotcha. No funny business.”

Jo got up to put her breakfast dishes in the sink. “Fine. Brief me on what I need to pack and let’s go.”

The two left the room, while the remaining three of you tried to get back to your food. After a couple of minutes, Ellen leaned over to you, pressing her shoulder to yours while still looking over the newspaper in front of her.

“Until those two numbskulls decide they want to tell me they’re together, you’ll keep an eye on ‘em, won’t you, Y/N?”

Turning to stare at the older woman, you tried not to let your jaw go slack. “Um, yeah, Ellen. You know I love those kids like they were my own.”

With a short nod, she folded up her paper and proceeded to put away her breakfast dishes. “Thanks, Y/N,” she said as she walked out the door.

Charlie looked at you with wide eyes and a little fear, but mostly curiosity. “Dean and Jo?”

You nodded, then whispered. “But don’t tell Ellen. Or anyone who would tell Ellen. They don’t want Ellen to know.”

Charlie looked at the door where Ellen had just disappeared, then back to you, and you both burst into a fit of giggles.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things with John are oddly tense, and that's before you're stuck in a closet.

John took your idea about the armory to heart and set right to it. The first thing he did was ensure that every vehicle that was going out on hunts had a weapons cache identical to the one in the Impala. He outfitted each car, personally, and restocked the inventory every time someone came back from a hunt. He then talked to everyone about their hunting styles and preferences, even going so far as to go on a hunt with Ellen, Jo, and Charlie to see how they used weapons differently. You went along for the ride, just to help buffer in case old bad feelings came up. John was excellent about letting them take the lead, though, and following their orders. By the end of the hunt, the old stiffness between John and the Harvelles had eased.

The tension between you and John increased, though.

No matter how hard you tried to joke around with him and make him smile, the best you got out of him, anymore, was a tight-lipped grimace. It seemed to break a bit during a salt and burn the two of you took when everyone else was busy. You were searching an antique store one night for a hairbrush belonging to your vengeful spirit when the owner almost caught you. The two of you stuffed yourselves into a nearby closet to hide while the owner apparently assuaged his insomnia by doing inventory and paying invoices.

Stuffed into such cramped quarters, you were surrounded by the scent of John. Not only that, you were all but pressed up against him from your shoulders down to the floor. You tried to shift to keep your distance, but there really wasn’t anywhere to go, so you just ended up rubbing up against him more. John stood tall and stoic, not moving a muscle while you found a comfortable position that wasn’t too close. He didn’t start breathing again until you stopped moving.

An hour into the ordeal, your knees and back were aching from standing still for so long, and you were getting tired from restraining your urges to lean into John. “We’ve got to find a way out of here, soon,” you whispered when the owner had walked out of the room for a moment. “I’m getting too old for this hiding-in-closets shit. The last time this was fun was when Davey McDonald snuck me into his house one night in eleventh grade.”

John chuckled quietly, keeping an eye through the slats in the door in case the owner returned. “And why would Davey McDonald sneak you into his house?”

Giving John a smirk, proud you could finally make him smile again, you replied, “Because someone told him I put out.”

John cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh really? Who would want to tarnish the spotless reputation of a good girl like you?”

You grinned. “Me! I was tired of being the good girl, and I wanted to grow up, already. So, when I started a new school, I tried to become someone new. Davey promised me he’d take care of me. His parents came home early, though, and I ended up spending some time in his closet until the coast was clear and he could sneak me out.”

“Did he take care of you?” John’s whisper had somehow gotten lower and developed a tone you couldn’t read in a whisper.

“Nah. With his parents home, all he could offer was a tool shed, and I wasn’t interested in losing my virginity in a tool shed.”

“Good. You deserved better.”

You huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, not sure what I got was better or not.” You ducked from his eyes, not really wanting to talk about the things you’d done to get him out of your mind when you were young.

“What do you mean? Anything has to be better than a tool shed, Y/N.”

You shrugged just the one shoulder and pretended to look out the door for the owner to avoid his eyes. “I was a hunter. In the end, I did what hunters do. I found a guy in a bar and took him to a motel room. Half an hour later, I wasn’t a virgin, anymore, so, problem solved.”

Suddenly, John’s arms were wrapped around you, your head cradled against his chest, your face almost nuzzling his neck.

“God, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You deserve better than that. You’re not a problem to be solved, especially like that.”

“I’m a hunter, John, a hunter who was raised in the life. That’s all we get, usually. Dean and Sam have both been lucky that they found something more at least once in their lives. Most of us don’t get that.”

John’s warmth wrapped around you was soothing, and his hands rubbing gentle patterns into your back almost had you falling asleep on your feet. You wished you could stay that way forever, but reality soon kicked in.

“You’ve got it now, though, right? Dean’s good to you?”

Straightening up and pulling away from him, you checked that the room outside your door was still empty to give yourself time to think of what to say. You finally had to look at him, trying to make out his features in the slivers of light coming through the door.

“Yeah, John. Your sons are the best men I’ve ever known. In spite of everything the world has thrown at them, and how some of that crap has splashed onto me, I wouldn’t give them up for anything. Any woman is lucky to have a Winchester love them.”

Before John could answer, the owner returned to the outer room, putting away his paperwork and closing up again. You motioned to John when it was time to make your escape, glad for the interruption. You finished the hunt and headed home, carefully avoiding any more talk about relationships.


	22. 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2004 - Sam's 21st birthday.

_2004_

_You’d been hunting almost constantly with Dean and John for nearly two years, only taking breaks every so often to visit Bobby or Sam. No one knew you visited Sam except Sam, per Sam’s request. He had just introduced you to this girl he was dating, Jess. She was sweet. Sam had given her a line about his mom dying in a car accident and his dad working all the time, hence why you babysat him so often and for so long. You went along with it, not wanting to tip his boat when he looked so happy._

_The three of you went out to a nice restaurant for dinner to celebrate Sam’s 21_ _ st _ _birthday, and then he and Jess went to a bar with some other friends to celebrate some more, leaving you at Sam’s apartment. You picked them up when they called, making sure they both got back safely, and tucked them both into Sam’s bed._

_A noise woke you up in the middle of the night, and you soon realized it was Sam stumbling into the living room, where you were sleeping on the couch. You sat up just in time for him to flop down next to you before keeling over into your lap. Stroking his hair, you tried to figure out what had brought on this unexpected bout of affection in the middle of the night._

_“Bigs? If you could have a lifetime supply of either salt or holy water, which would you choose?”_

_Oh._

_“Salt. It’s too multi-functional.” Settling into your role as comforter, you drew the blanket over his form and then started humming while you petted his hair._

_“I love the days when you’re here, but the nights sometimes suck,” Sam said, still slurring his words, even though he’d been home for a few hours. You knew he’d never tell you anything like that when he was sober._

_“Do you want me to stop visiting?” If it made him happy, you’d do it. You’d restrict yourself to phone calls and emails._

_“No, Bigs. The days are worth it.” He wrapped an arm around your knees and gave you a clumsy squeeze. As you hummed, he fell back to sleep, leaving you to deal with the tears that had welled up in your eyes._

_Ever the alert hunter, you woke up with the first sounds of Jess moving around the apartment, Sam still passed out with his head in your lap. You carefully managed to work your way out from underneath him and met Jess as you stood up. Jess looked from you to her boyfriend, and you saw the question in her eyes. You waved her into the kitchen, and she led you there quietly._

_You started coffee while Jess just stood there, nervously shuffling her feet._

_“Why does he get these nightmares?”_

_You looked at Jess, wondering how much to say. “That’s something you need to ask Sam. It’s not my story to tell.” Waving at the coffee, Jess indicated she’d make her own while you sat down with yours._

_Jess sat across from you, hands folded around her mug. “Normally, he doesn’t go back to sleep when he gets them, but he did with you last night. How did you get him back to sleep?”_

_Thinking of how Sam snored in your lap, you chuckled. “Well, it helped that he was still drunk and basically passed out.” Jess smiled and nodded. “He doesn’t like to talk about it, so get him to talk about something else. We play a kind of ‘what if’ game. If you could have a lifetime supply of something like ice cream or pizza or shoes or toilet paper, what brand or flavor or whatever would you want. Stuff like that. It gets him out of the headspace he was in and puts him into a better one. I sing, sometimes, too. Just an old lullaby I heard in a movie forever ago. If you can’t sing, a nice soft rock station usually does the trick.”_

_You and Jess talked until Sam finally woke up, you asking Jess about her life, her studies, how they’d met, her family, and anything you could think of that would keep Jess from asking about you and Sam. Once Sam was up, you made your excuses and headed out quickly, only stopping to make sure Sam was okay. You knew he’d be in good hands with Jess, but keeping her out of the life would be hard on him, so you worried, anyway._

_When you got back to John and Dean, you walked into the middle of them not talking to each other, as usual. Dean didn’t speak up when he was mad, ever the obedient soldier, so they would just stop talking to each other. You did your magic, distracting John so you could get Dean alone, so he could vent._

_Dean sat next to you on the bed, flipping through the channels on the TV._

_“Wanna talk about it, Dean?”_

_Dean pursed his lips. “How’s Sam?”_

_You tried to keep your breath from hitching so he wouldn’t catch the lie. “Last I heard, he’s fine. I got an email last week. He’s getting good grades in school. Mentioned a girl.”_

_“I should have gone to visit him for his birthday. It’s his 21_ _ st _ _, you know.” You nodded. “A big brother should be there for his little brother’s 21_ _ st _ _birthday. Buy him his first shot.”_

_“Dean, you bought him his first shot when he was 16,” you deadpanned._

_Dean smiled. “You know, his first legal shot, then.”_

_“Isn’t the whole point of being legal that you can finally buy your own shots?” you joked, nudging him in the ribs._

_He shook his head and tried to smile. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, thanks for coming back when you did. Dad’s gone nuts again. He’s the one that taught me everything I know, yet he still treats me like I don’t know anything!” Dean kept going, letting off steam about how his dad had been yelling, and you just nodded and smiled until he was finished._

_“Maybe it’s time you and I found another hunt of our own. Give you and John some space to breathe.”_

_Dean agreed, and grabbed up the local paper, starting his search as soon as he possibly could. As you picked up your phone to call Bobby, you smiled, glad that you could help both of your boys._


	23. 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2009 - Sam admits to Bobby and Y/N that he's the reason Lucifer is free.

_2009_

_You and Bobby pulled up to the motel in the Impala, not knowing what you were going to face. Dean had been quick talking on the phone, just saying the bare minimum before giving you an address and hanging up. All you knew was that they were okay, the apocalypse was nigh, Ruby was dead, Cas was probably dead, they needed Michael’s sword, and Sam had a groupie. When you saw your boys both alive and in one piece, you sent up a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening and held them both until they peeled you off of them._

_You got down to work, pulling out a book to start digging into for information about this “Michael Sword”, when Sam froze. Bobby pushed him to talk, and what he said floored you. Your heart had broken when he and Dean had separated, hearing from both of them about why they did what they did, and understanding both sides, but not being able to do anything about it. Hearing Sam say that everything he had done, thinking it was for the greater good, was actually playing right into the demons’ hands, seeing his face crumple as he admitted his guilt, it broke your heart._

_“Oh, yeah?” Bobby said, getting close to Sam and spitting fury into the younger Winchester’s face. “You’re sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don’t get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off…I want you to lose my number. You understand me?”_

_You couldn’t believe what you were hearing! This was not the Bobby who had sobered you up after John died. This was not the Bobby who had helped you clean up the mess after your first solo hunt. I mean, sure, the stakes were bigger, now, but still!_

_Sam quietly nodded, and you saw the despair fill him, even though part of him had obviously expected this response. You were frozen in shock as he grabbed his coat and left. The sound of the door shutting brought you back to life._

_“What the actual FUCK, Bobby?” you screamed, glaring at Bobby as you grabbed your coat and ran after the younger Winchester. You raced down the stairs, but Sam’s legs were longer, and he was halfway down the block before you caught up to him._

_“Sam! Sam, stop!”_

_Sam turned to you, and there were tears streaming down his face. Your face crumpled as you saw the man in front of you, who once was nothing more than a crying baby in your arms, reduced to a pile of self-loathing and despair. Throwing your arms around his neck, you brought him down to your level, feeling his arms wrap around your waist as he began to cry into your shoulder._

_“I’m so sorry, Bigs. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought was taking out the one who started it all. I thought I was stopping everything, and nothing mattered except that. I’m so sorry,” he cried, his tears dampening your shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”_

_You shushed him, stroking his hair and trying to calm him. “I know, baby. I know. You made a mistake. You trusted the wrong person and it blew up in your face.”_

_When his sobs finally slowed, he pulled away from you, wiping his face and glancing around furtively to see if anyone was watching. You cupped his head in your hands, forcing him to look down at you._

_“I don’t know what’s wrong with Bobby, but I forgive you.” Sam crumpled into your arms again, squeezing you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. “I’m still here, Smalls. I’m not going anywhere.”_

_Sam finally let you go, and you stopped outside the church, sitting on a low wall. Sam explained everything, giving you all the high points of his mistakes while you rubbed his back and forgave him for each and every one. When he finished, he turned to you and sighed. “Dean can’t forgive me. He won’t even talk about it.”_

_You tried to give Sam a reassuring smile. “That’s because sometimes your brother takes after your dad. If it makes you feel any better, sometimes you take after your dad, too.” Sam snorted a laugh and wiped a hand over his face. “He’s hurt. Really hurt. He’s going to need time to learn how to trust you again. You’re going to have to earn it, and that’s not going to be easy.”_

_Sam nodded, taking a deep breath and running his hand through his hair._

_Patting his shoulder, you stood up and grabbed his hand to make him follow you. “Come on. Let’s go back. I need to beat Bobby upside the head a bit. Possibly your brother, too.”_


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John reads Sam's journal.

Once John was satisfied with the weapons cache you each used for hunts, he started thinking outside of the box like you’d suggested. When he wasn’t going on hunts or checking inventory, he was quizzing Sam on hunts with different monsters that they’d had over the years, looking for weaknesses that could be eliminated with better weapons. Sam showed John his own journal, which he had digitized and uploaded to the Men of Letters database instead of keeping it in an actual journal, and John pored over the entries with a fine-toothed comb. That night, John knocked on your door as you were heading to bed.

You opened the door, and immediately wished you weren’t standing there in ratty old pajama pants and one of Sam’s old flannels with your hair hastily pulled into a clip. John was looking particularly attractive, for some reason you couldn’t fathom. He didn’t look any different than he had since he’d come back, but your heart skipped a beat, anyway.

“Hey, John. What’s up?”

John waved past you and asked, “Mind if I come in? I saw Dean heading into his own room, so I’m assuming I’m not interrupting anything?”

You tried to cover the grimace at the thought of you and Dean being something that shouldn’t be interrupted, remembering how much Dean wanted you to keep his secret. Waving him into your room, you closed the door behind him and then tried to gauge where his mind was based on his body language. He stayed standing, shuffling back and forth on his feet as he stood in the middle of the room.

“Have a seat, John. You make me nervous standing like that,” you said, heading over to your bed and taking a seat at the head of it, leaning against the headboard. John finally sat down near the foot of the bed, keeping a generous distance between you.

“Sam showed me his journal today.” The pain on John’s face pierced your heart like a dagger. “Did you know he started that thing when he was at Stanford? There wasn’t much to it back then, just a couple of things that turned out to be nothing, but he wrote other things in it, too.” John wiped a hand over his face and sighed.

“I knew he had a journal, and I knew that it became more official once we got the bunker and he started considering himself a Man of Letters. I know that he writes down everything after a hunt, just making sure he has all the details straight in case they run into something twice. He’s very meticulous about it.”

John nodded, his face still grave. “At first, I skipped the personal stuff. I just read about the hunts, the monsters, the weapons. Then, I got to the entry about,” John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “about Cold Oak. When that bastard knifed him in the back. And what Dean did to fix it. I couldn’t ignore any parts of it after that.”

You tried not to remember those days very often. When Bobby called you and told you what had happened, what Dean had done, your knees had gone out from under you in shock. You had hunted with them until Dean had died, trying to get him out of his contract. After he was gone, though, Sam had pushed you away, the same way he’d pushed Bobby away.

“Y/N, I read everything. From meeting Jess at Stanford, watching Dean die, taking down Lucifer, not having his soul, the psychotic break, the year with Amelia, Dean and the Mark, to Chuck bringing us all back.” His eyes met yours and he drew in your gaze, so you couldn’t look away. “And through it all, there was you.”

Your face heated, and you broke his gaze. “John, I….”

“No, Y/N, let me finish. From what I read, never once did you not answer your phone. You never turned your back on them, and you never let them down. Without you and Bobby, I don’t know where my boys would be right now. I mean, you gave up your life for them, didn’t you?”

You were quick to face John and challenge him. “No, John! I never gave up anything! They have been the one constant in my life, too. I depend on them just as much as they depend on me.”

John moved closer to you on the bed and took your hands in his, his eyes glued to where he began rubbing circles into your skin. “When I first suspected something was going on between you and Dean, I had my doubts. There was the age difference, and how you used to be an authority figure in his life, and I worried that you couldn’t give him things I thought he’d want or need. But now, I have to give you my blessing.” John’s eyes finally left your joined hands to seek out your face. “After everything you’ve done for my boys, you deserve the best. If that’s Dean, then I’m all for it.”

Not knowing what to say, you stared at John with your mouth agape. “Uhhh, okay. That’s the last thing I expected you to say when you knocked on my door, but it’s completely appreciated. Thank you, John.”

John squeezed your hands, the expression on his face hard to read. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. After reading about all the horrors Sam had been through, you imagined no one would look completely happy. Without another word, he let go of your hands and headed for the door. With it half open, he turned back.

“Thank you for everything, Y/N. We can never pay you back for all you’ve done.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you to your thoughts.


	25. 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2006 - Dean is dying.

_2006_

_You woke up in the hospital with a raging headache. Slowly, memories of what had happened filtered into your mind. Meg took John. Dean and Sam got John out of the apartment building, killing a demon with the Colt. The four of you headed to the cabin to lay low until John could recover, but John was possessed. The demon attacked all of you, laughing at how you loved the Winchesters, laughing at how Sam’s psychic skills weren’t strong enough, laughing at how Dean loved his family, twisting John’s actions. You watched as Dean almost died, you watched as Sam chose to save his father, you held Dean in your lap as Sam raced the Impala to the hospital, and then it all went dark._

_Machines around you beeped regularly, assuring you that you were alive and doing all right. You must have knocked your head in the crash, because when you touched it, your head felt tender. Just as you were about to ring for a nurse, Sam came around the corner._

_“Bigs! Thank God!”_

_“Sam! What happened?”_

_“Demon possessed a truck driver, tried to kill us. Dad’s got a busted arm but is basically stable, but Dean… Bigs… He’s….” Sam’s face closed off for a second while he steeled himself. “He’s not waking up, Bigs. He’s on all of these machines, and he’s not waking up.”_

_Grabbing the control hanging off the railing on your bed, you started ringing for the nurse. “We’ll get me unhooked from all this crap, and then we’ll go check on him, okay?”_

_The doctor finally checked you out and advised you to follow concussion precautions but said that otherwise, you were okay. He had the nurses disconnect your IV and asked that you just stick around for observation. As soon as you were free of tubes and wires, Sam led you to Dean, and you sat in the chair next to his bed, holding his hand until the doctor came in and gave you the bad news. Dean might not make it._

_The two of you headed to John’s room to see him. The relief on his face when he saw the two of you was palpable. Sam made you sit down in the chair while he stood behind you._

_“Here. Give them my insurance,” John said, handing a card to Sam._

_Sam looked at the card and scoffed. “Elroy McGillicutty?”_

_John smiled. “And his wife and two loving sons.”_

_Your eyes widened, your mind racing. John planned for something like this? Planned for you like he planned for his kids?_

_John looked at you for a long time with an expression you’d seen before but didn’t understand. His eyes stayed on you while he talked with Sam. “So, what else did the doctor say about Dean?”_

_The two men talked about Dean while your mind raced. John called you his wife, even if it was only a lie for an insurance company. He didn’t call you his daughter or his sister, he called you his wife. What did that mean? Sam and John argued like they always did, going back and forth about what was best for Dean. John barked orders at Sam, but you were still too blindsided by everything to get involved this time. After Sam left, you continued just looking at John._

_“If you keep staring at me like that, darlin’, I’m gonna get a complex.”_

_You shook your head and dropped your eyes, your cheeks burning. “Sorry. Head injury. Guess I’m still a little fuzzy.”_

_John’s hand reached out and caressed your cheek, forcing you to look up at him again. “What’s going through that mind of yours, Y/N?”_

_“You told the insurance company I was your wife.” You groaned internally, wondering what other embarrassing nonsense your head injury might allow you to say._

_“Well, if it makes a difference, you’re my much younger, much better-looking trophy wife who’s probably only in it for the money.” You both chuckled. “Elroy McGillicutty has a couple pennies to rub together, unlike me. He’s kind of a catch.” His hand dropped from your face, and your head dropped again so you were looking into your lap._

_John touched your shoulder to get your attention again. “What about you? You’ve got a nasty bruise on your forehead, there. What’s your prognosis?”_

_“Concussion, but not much more. They want me to stick around for observation, just in case.”_

_“Then you should be resting, not sitting here staring at an old man.”_

_You shook your head. “I’m either here or Dean’s room.”_

_“Well, then, at least rest while you’re in here,” he said, moving over and motioning for you to get into the bed with him. “Can’t have my wife not following doctor’s orders.”_

_Completely convinced that this was all a concussion dream, you crawled into the bed with him, snuggling up to his side, laying your head on his good shoulder. You fell asleep quickly, surrounded by the scent of him, tinged with the antiseptic smell of the hospital._

_When Sam came back and found you both still in John’s room, he started an argument with his father, as usual. He tried to keep quiet to let you rest, but soon it escalated, and you woke up, trying to get between them. Nothing seemed to stop them until the glass of water went flying across the room._

_A commotion outside attracted everyone’s attention, and you and Sam ran to find out what was going on. The doctors got Dean back, but it was close. Sam told you he had an idea and left, almost at a run. You headed back to John’s room to update him, tears in your eyes._

_When John saw the tears in your eyes, he pulled you back into the bed with him. Tearfully, you told him that the doctors didn’t have much hope, you were afraid you’d be losing Dean. John’s arms tightened around you, comforting you._

_“Honey, Dean’s tough. He got through that other scare, he got through 15 high schools, he got through all of the crap I threw at him his entire life, he’ll get through this, too.” He kissed your head, holding his lips to your hair for a long moment. The thought that this was the nicest nightmare you’d ever had flitted through your mind, but you were enjoying John’s attention too much to question it._

_“John, I love them like they’re mine. My head knows they’re not, but my heart is stupid about it. I’ve loved them since the first moment I saw them. I’ve lost people. I lost my parents, we’ve lost friends, but I don’t think anything is going to hurt as much as losing Dean.” The tears in your eyes finally escaped, streaming down your cheeks. John tried to wipe them away, but they were coming too fast._

_“I know you love my boys, and I’m so glad for it. Dean’s going to be just fine, I know it. We’ll find someone, or something, and we’ll fix it. I promise you, Y/N. I promise.”_

_Your tears exhausted you, and you fell asleep again in John’s arms._

_When you woke up, you were alone in the bed, but John was kissing your forehead. “John? Did something happen? Dean…?”_

_“Dean’s fine. He woke up. He’s gonna be fine, Y/N.”_

_The sudden change in Dean’s prognosis confused your still sleeping brain, but you quickly got with the program. “He’s awake? He’s fine?”_

_“Yeah! He’s just fine. Now, go take care of my boys like I know you want to. I need to take a nap before we bust out of here, okay?”_

_You jumped out of bed and threw your arms around John, almost knocking him over. “I’ll go check on him, and then I’ll be back, okay?”_

_John smiled. “Okay, sweetheart.”_

_As you headed to Dean’s room, you felt like you were floating. Everything was perfect. Dean was fine, you all would heal, and you and John would be together. John hadn’t said it specifically, but you knew it from his actions. He wanted to be with you. There’d be hundreds more shared beds and forehead kisses, all leading to so much more than you’d ever dreamed you could have. You’d be a family, you and John and your boys._


	26. 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2006 - Recovering from John's death.

_2006_

_You watched John’s body, wrapped in a white sheet, darken and burn as the flames licked up the pyre to consume it. Tears threatened to fall, but if your boys weren’t going to give in to them, then you wouldn’t, either. At least, not in front of them._

_You cried plenty when you were alone, with no chance of anybody finding you. In the shower, in the car on your way to the liquor store, hiding near the back of the salvage yard, tucked into an old Pontiac. But when your boys could find you, you were strong._

_The three of you slept together on the floor of Bobby’s living room, trying to find comfort in each other without having to make a big deal out of it. Your boys, and they were your boys, now, needed you to be strong without talking about it, without picking at the scab, without saying what everyone knew John did, without wondering where he was now when everyone knew._

_Dean worked on the car, Sam flipped through John’s journal obsessively, and you flitted between playing Suzy Homemaker, cooking and cleaning like your life depended on it, and mother hen, trying to trim Sam’s hair and trying to help Dean with the car and trying to force Bobby to go to bed at a decent time. After a week, the boys left in one of Bobby’s rusted-out minivans, saying they had a lead on the demon, but not taking the time to tell you about it. Dean pulled you aside before they left._

_“I know you want to come with us, but I also know how you felt about Dad, and that you’re trying to keep it all in to protect us. Well, we’re going, so take a minute and do what you gotta do, Bigs. We’ll be back after we run this down.”_

_They were gone for a week. You spent most of it drunk._

_Bobby took care of you, making sure you ate and shoving you into the bathroom once a day demanding that you shower. Later, you wouldn’t remember much of that week, but Bobby knew a lot more at the end than he had at the beginning, so you guessed you talked a lot. When the boys called to say they were on their way back, you cleaned up quickly, feeling a bit better emotionally, if not physically. You were ready to ride with your boys again._

_But they weren’t ready to ride with you._

_“We just need to be on our own for a little bit, Bigs,” Dean said, avoiding your eyes by looking anywhere but at you. It was over six months later when you finally found out the real reason. Dean knew he’d never be able to hide a secret that big from you, so he had to push you away. When you found out what John’s final words to his older son were, you understood why Dean had done it._

_That first day, though, watching the Impala pull out of Bobby’s driveway, you felt like you’d lost everything. John was gone, your boys were gone, your parents were gone, you’d lost touch with Ellen after Bill had died on a hunt with John, and you felt even more alone than you had when John had stopped asking you to babysit the boys. You had Bobby, but even Bobby got tired of your drunken pity party after another week of trying to force you to live. He finally told you he couldn’t stand to watch you drown yourself in a bottle, so if that was your plan, you had to do it somewhere else._

_So, you left._

_You packed a bag, stole a car, and drove. When you were too tired to drive any more, you pulled over for the night and slept in the backseat, then woke up in the morning and did it again. You didn’t know what direction you were going, and in the end, your route looked like a child had scribbled on a map. When the thought of getting in the car for another day made you want to vomit, you stopped._

_Looking around, you realized that you’d been on the road non-stop for over two months. Fall was approaching, giving the air a little nip, and you were damn close to New England. You were in a tiny town about an hour outside of Philly that only had one bar, which happened to have a dive motel attached to the back of it. It wasn’t exactly the worst motel you’d ever been to, but it rated an honorable mention. The view outside your window was downright pastoral, though, and you spent many nights looking at it with a glass of something strong in your hand. The view was better than watching the TV, which only got three channels and made everyone look seasick green. There were mountains everywhere, half of which were covered in corn. Having spent most of your life in the Midwest, where corn fields were flat, you admired the farmers that plowed on a forty-five-degree angle._

_The people were about as closed-off as you’d ever met, quite frankly. You had to get five drinks into anyone before they’d do more than nod your way, and that was after you’d seen them every night for a week. You took a job waitressing and tending bar during the off hours in exchange for the room, living off the meager tips the locals handed out. You’d been searching for something to help you forget John, for a connection to the world, someone to care about who wanted to be with you, and you’d landed in the wrong place._

_Things changed after you found a hunt in the countryside around the tiny town. The entire county was known for its hauntings, with multiple books written documenting a long list of ghosts. Most of the locals seemed to be okay with it, just living amongst the dead, avoiding certain parts of their houses at night or leaving a light on to appease them. One woman, though, wasn’t having any of it and came to your bar to vent._

_She’d grown up there but had moved away to go to college and get married. When her marriage dissolved, she came home. Suddenly, the ghost that had merely walked around her parents’ house and made harmless noises was breaking dishes and locking people in rooms. It really didn’t like her being back. She was desperate for a new place to stay but wasn’t quite willing to stoop to a room like yours, so she’d called a priest. Fat lot of good that did._

_You took her aside and told her you could help, with a little information from her. Two days later, the ghost was put to rest, and her whole family was sleeping better. You patted yourself on the back for a job well done and hoped this might lead to a friend._

_It didn’t._

_You did get quite a reputation as someone who could take care of weird shit, though. Suddenly, your tips at the bar increased as your patrons asked you to investigate all manner of strange things happening around their houses and farms. Sometimes, it was ghosts, sometimes it was wild animals. You handled it all, never asking for a penny, and always flying under the radar of the authorities._

_Then, one weekend, the bikers came._

_In the middle of the cornfields that defied gravity, there was a motorcycle club. A few times a year, they gathered, and the sounds of their bikes echoed throughout the valley. One of the bikers was from out of town and talked your ear off all about it. At the end of your lunch shift, you were on the back of his bike, flying down the mountain at sixty-five miles per hour, hanging on to him for dear life._

_The club was fantastic. Everyone was friendly, the beer and whiskey flowed freely, and you finally felt like you’d found a place where you could belong. A couple of the bikers looked like hunters to you, but you didn’t push it, not wanting to be rejected because of your connection with John. John hadn’t made many friends in the hunting world. He’d been too focused on the job to make friends._

_The weekend ended too quickly for you, and everyone went home. Most of the guys didn’t live too far away, though, and you met up with the single guys every now and then to keep each other’s beds warm. Christmas came, and you actually had people to spend it with who made you go to church and gave you presents. The chill of January brought wet, slushy snow, and no one who knew how to drive in it, but you didn’t care. You were basically happy. Most of the time._

_You did get messages and the occasional call from the boys, but they were always short and left you aching to see them. You were mad when you found out they’d been in Philly with Jo and because of crossed wires, they didn’t know you were close enough to visit. The ache of missing them became just a thing that was always there in the background, like the sound of your breathing._

_One day in February, as your shift was about to start, your phone rang. When you hung up, you handed your apron to your boss and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. One of my boys is missing, and I have to go find him.”_

_“I didn’t even know you had kids, Y/N!”_

_You smiled, though fearful tears were threatening to fall. “Two boys. Best men I’ve ever known.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The tiny town mentioned here is where I grew up. The bar with the motel existed until about twenty years ago when they tore down the motel part. The bar has changed hands a few times, now, and is a quite nice restaurant these days. I stayed in the motel once, and the bit about the TV is all true. It had knobs and everything. The ghost stories are true, too. If you're ever in the market for it, there's a book series called "The Ghosts of Berks County". I think there are five books in all. Also, if you think I'm exaggerating about how standoffish people can be, I've barely brushed the surface here. There's a standing joke that you're an "Auslander" until you've lived there for four generations. Things are slowly changing, as the world gets smaller and the valley is even more considered a suburb of Philly, so there's a lot of big expensive new houses being built. It's a beautiful area, though. I might be biased. Yeah well.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley brings you a hunt.

Things settled down for a while on the monster front, and everyone got to spend some time resting at the bunker. Well, except for you, since you were keeping everyone’s secrets. Jo came to you for advice on dealing with Dean when he drove her crazy, Ellen checked in with you occasionally to make sure her baby was doing alright, and Charlie came to you to tell you about how she was messing with Dean since he didn’t know she knew and she couldn’t tell him how she found out. Frankly, you were getting kind of tired of it all.

Mostly, you were tired of pretending with John. Since his visit in your room, he had barely spoken to you. At first, it felt like he was just keeping an appropriate distance between you, but that distance seemed to grow with every passing day. Anytime someone mentioned the two of you doing anything together, whether it was going on a supply run or doing the dishes, John would always push Dean into his place. When the next hunt came around, though, there was no way for him to get away from you.

Crowley is the one who brought it to you, strangely enough. He popped up during dinner one night, startling everyone enough that Ellen nearly choked on a bite of chicken. Everyone stood up and tried to rush to her, but she waved you all off. Once everyone backed away, Dean turned to Crowley and growled at him.

“Would it kill you to knock?”

Crowley smirked. “No, but I just love keeping you on your toes, Squirrel. I’ve come because I have a hunt for you, and I need to borrow your Wendy.”

Everyone looked puzzled except you and the boys, both of whom moved closer to you to protect you. When the rest of the room saw them move, all eyes were suddenly on you. Looking around, you sighed.

“Peter Pan? Wendy Darling?” Everyone nodded, and you turned back to Crowley. “It’s better than Perdita or Mama Bear. What do you need me for?”

“A certain Grigori angel who has been feasting on rich couples for years has recently come into possession of an item that was stolen from me. I will help you take out the angel if you help me retrieve my property. The problem is, the only time he lets down security is when he’s trolling for new victims. He throws parties to attract rich couples, puts the ones he likes best in his pantry, and lives the high life off their money. Since he only chooses and invites couples, I need a date.”

“Why not use a demon? Why me?”

“I have tried. Those with the skills lack the social niceties and vice versa. You, my dear, are the total package. Beauty and brains, all wrapped up in a bow.”

You eyed Crowley while you considered his argument, then shook your head. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong girl, Crowley. I wouldn’t know what fork to use, or how to talk to people. You’re better off using a lackey.”

Crowley took a step towards you, and you felt everyone behind you stiffen. He took one of your hands in his and gave you his most charming smile. “Now, love, don’t sell yourself short. I’ve watched you work over the years.” Pulling your hand towards his lips, he spoke so lowly only you could truly hear what he said next. “You could charm a king right off his throne, you know.” His lips met your hand, his beard and mustache tickling your skin.

Dean broke the spell Crowley was weaving over you by pulling you closer to him, tearing your hand from Crowley’s grasp. “You’re nuts if you think we’re letting you take Y/N anywhere without us backing her up.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Considering the complexity of the job, I never expected you to allow Y/N to do it alone.” Crowley looked at all three of you, then seemed to focus behind you. “Will it just be the usual number of Winchesters, or will I have to put up with all three of you?”

From right behind you, you heard John say, “All three.”

Crowley grimaced. “Great. One third more macho posturing. Now, the dress code is a bit out of your price range, so I’ll be taking care of your wardrobe. Y/N, darling, would you please stand away from them just a bit for just a moment?”

Eyeing Crowley suspiciously, you took exactly one step away from the Winchesters and towards Crowley. The demon smiled, then snapped his fingers.

Looking down, your standard jeans and a flannel over a tank top were replaced by an expensive ball gown that accentuated your curves, with a matching handbag in your hand. The gown was the exact shade that would best set off your eyes, and patting your head, you found your hair was beautifully styled, too. To top it all off, the necklace and earrings you felt were probably wildly expensive.

“Wow, Bigs, you clean up nice,” said Sam, looking you up and down.

Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Sam.” You patted yourself down, feeling very out of character in something so nice, and realized you also had no weapons on you. You turned to Crowley. “Only one problem. No weapons. I’m not going anywhere with anyone without protection. And if we’re breaking into something, I’ll need tools.” Without another word, you carefully stepped out of the kitchen and headed towards your room.

When you stepped into your room, you caught a look at yourself in the mirror and gasped. Even you thought you looked beautiful. Your hair and makeup were perfect, and the dangly diamond earrings perfectly matched the gorgeous diamond necklace. Everything worked together to make you look positively ethereal. After you were done admiring yourself, you started loading yourself up with weapons and tools. The dress didn’t leave you much room for too many things, but you managed to get enough into your purse, down your cleavage, and strapped to your thighs to ease your mind.

In the kitchen, Crowley and the Winchesters were arguing about the plan, and Cas had joined them. While you were gearing up, Crowley had zapped Dean to the site of the gala and discovered that the entire place was warded against demons. Cas was arguing that he should go along, since it was an angel you were hunting, but Crowley was arguing that the place was also warded against angels, so Cas would be as useless as he was. With all the warding in place, either someone would have to get inside and break all the wards so Crowley could step in and steal what he wanted, which would take a lot of time, or Crowley would have to trust the four of you to steal the right thing while taking out the Grigori. The five were arguing loudly when you stepped into the middle of them.

Waving your hands, you yelled until they all stopped and looked at you. When you were sure they wouldn’t interrupt you, you turned to Cas.

“Cas, I understand you wanting to go along, but Crowley’s right. There’s nothing you can do there.” You turned to the demon next. “I hate to say this, Crowley, but I think you’re just going to have to trust us. We’re trusting you to get us there and back safely, so you can trust us to get your property while we’re inside. I mean, you’re our ride, so if we double-cross you we have to hoof it back here. In this getup, that’s enough of an incentive for me.”

Crowley and the Winchesters all scowled at each other but nodded their assent. Crowley then turned to John. “I’m assuming you haven’t had a chance to buy yourself a tux since your return, am I right?”

John’s eyebrows raised, and he took a step back. “Me? I thought Dean would be taking your place, not me!”

Crowley let out an aggrieved sigh. “The invite I procured is for the Lord and Lady MacLeod. Dean’s too young to pass for me. It will have to be you, Papa Winchester.”

Seeing how very uncomfortable the situation made John sliced through your heart. “We can’t change the invitation to the Lady and her esteemed boy toy, then?”

Crowley grimaced. “No.” He turned to John and snapped his fingers, changing John’s flannel and denim to a tux with a black tie and shiny shoes. His hair was neatly combed, and his beard trimmed. Two more snaps of Crowley’s fingers and Dean and Sam were made up as waiters, up to and including the white apron. All you saw, though, was John.

His shoulders flexed as he moved in the jacket, checking the fit of it. His hands entranced you as they searched his pockets, patting down his chest and hips until he found his glasses and his wallet. He turned around to grab his cell phone off the table, bending over just enough to give you a good view of his ass in those pants, and you forced yourself to drag your eyes away before he turned back around and caught you.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere without weapons, so I’ll be right back,” Dean declared, and both Sam and John followed him out of the room.

You looked around the room, seeing Ellen, Bobby, Jo, and Charlie staring at you in your dress, the food on the table long forgotten. Ellen came over to you with a kind smile on her face.

“You’re gonna do just fine, kid. When you’re dancing, let him lead. When you’re eating, silverware is set up so you go from the outside in. You already know how to talk to people, so when you walk in there and everyone’s looking at you, just remember that they’re all people, too. You’ve been doing this long enough that you know that if you pretend you belong somewhere, everyone assumes you actually do, so own it. You can do this, kiddo.”


	28. 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2013 - Crowley's in your dungeon.

_2013_

_Although you had met Kevin on a couple of occasions, he refused your care until Dean sent you both to the bunker. You wanted to stay with your boys, help them close the gates of Hell, but Dean said Kevin needed you more. You looked pointedly at Sam, barely able to stand most of the time, but Dean assured you he would take care of him. Sam hugged you as tightly as he could, which wasn’t as tight as he usually did, and you told him to kick it in the ass like he always did._

_When the bunker went on lockdown, you tried everything you could think of to keep Kevin on an even keel. It was two days in the dark, with only the red glow of the emergency lights and no way to get a message outside the building. He’d been on edge before this, bristling at Dean’s every command and brushing off all of your attempts to reason with him, but when the alarms blew, so did his sanity. You decided to let him do whatever he felt he needed to do, as long as it didn’t hurt himself or you, and patronized him when he armed himself and set up a blockade in the map room. As long as he ate and drank for you, you let him do his thing, quietly locking up the armory with the big weapons before he could get into it._

_You were resting in your room when Dean came home, returning the bunker to normal and easing your worries about him and Sam. Well, until Sam dragged Crowley down the stairs. Dean reassured both of you that Crowley was no threat, but Kevin was pissed. Dean talked him down, as only Dean could, and you thought it was over._

_Despite Dean’s instructions to leave Crowley alone, you checked on him. King of Hell or not, you had to. You shifted aside the shelving and turned on the lights, giving Crowley a good once over as you walked in._

_“I should have known Mama Bear would be here. Taking care of the little prophet, are we? Making sure he eats his Wheaties?”_

_“Someone has to since you killed his mother, Crowley,” you deadpanned. “Or did you? Care to tell me where you stashed her?” While you chatted, keeping your voice even, you circled around Crowley in his chair, checking his shackles and brushing dirt off of his shoulders._

_“Unlock these shackles and I promise to bring her right back here and leave her on your doorstep in thirty minutes or less.” Crowley’s dirty face grinned up at you the same way it always did, whether he had all the cards or not._

_“I doubt that. Even pumped full of human blood, you wouldn’t actually deliver. Best we could manage is carry-out.” Your quip delivered, you studied the demon in his trap and made a decision._

_Your mistake was in leaving the door open._

_Kevin was supposedly in the library studying the demon tablet and trying to figure out how to kill a Knight of Hell. You were just going to grab a washcloth and basin and be back in a minute._

_Kevin was actually lurking in the hallway just outside the door, and a minute is all it took for Crowley to goad Kevin into beating the crap out of him. He had an extra few minutes on top of that because you’d decided to check on him in the library, then spent ten minutes searching for him everywhere he could be that wasn’t the dungeon. By the time you got back, basin of water in hand, Kevin was standing next to Crowley, panting from exertion, fire blazing in his eyes as Crowley told him the Winchesters didn’t care about him._

_You entered the room slowly and carefully, approaching Kevin like you would a wounded animal. “Kevin? Are you okay?”_

_Crowley laughed. “Mama Bear is finally here to take care of yet another cub! How touching!”_

_Kevin’s eyes were still wild when he looked at you. You melted, ignoring Crowley and putting down the basin to stand in front of him. Carefully, you put one hand on his arm, keeping eye contact with him to calm him. Over the course of a long moment, you were able to bring him into your arms and rest his head on your shoulder. Quiet tears soaked your shirt as he put his arms around you, barely any strength to them._

_“If she’s alive, I promise, I’ll help you find her. You’re not alone, Kevin.”_

_When his breathing became even, he backed away from you and quietly left the room._

_“I’d applaud, but, well,” Crowley snarked, rattling his chains._

_You pulled the table over in front of him and set the bowl next to him, soaking the cloth and wringing it out before dabbing at his face. Using as much care as you could, you cleaned the blood, sweat, and dirt from his face, enduring his eyes on you the whole time._

_“If I’m your prisoner, why clean me up? I’m just a demon. I’ll heal without your attention, you know,” Crowley snapped. He didn’t move his face, though._

_“What’s stopping me from curing you right here and now?” you asked, keeping your voice level and face unaffected. “Why shouldn’t I open up a vein of my own, make you human, and then ask you about Kevin’s mother? Once you’re bogged down with human guilt, you’ll sing like a canary.”_

_Crowley looked thoughtful as you wiped more dried blood from his cheeks. “Kevin asked about defeating a Knight of Hell. I’m the King of Hell. A demon army could be useful going up against Abaddon.”_

_You hummed a noncommittal answer and shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”_

_Crowley studied you as you worked. “So, the babysitter has taken in the prophet, and even looks after demons. Interesting."_

_You wiped down the last bloody inch of his face and surveyed the cuts. “Will these need bandages? You seem to have stopped bleeding.”_

_Crowley’s eyes were glued to your face, obviously trying to figure you out. “I shouldn’t need bandages, but I thank you for the offer, Perdita.”_

_Packing up the basin and bloody cloth, you headed out of the room. “You’re welcome,” you said as you shut off the lights and closed the door behind you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get two chapters tonight since they're so short and both flashbacks! Next chapter to go up in a few minutes!


	29. 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2014 - Crowley's in your dungeon. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 2nd of two chapters going up tonight, so make sure you read the previous chapter before this one!

_2014_

_“Dammit, Crowley, why are you back in my dungeon?” you snapped as you walked in through the open shelving units and took in his derelict state. You stopped walking when you got a little too close, waving a hand in front of your face. “And why do you smell like a dirty gym sock?” You managed not to gag but took several steps back in self-defense._

_Instead of snarking, like you expected, Crowley dropped his head to his chest. “Do we have to discuss my downfall, Perdita? I’ve already admitted my failures to your charges.”_

_“Yeah, Dean told me all about Lola.” You sighed. “Really? Her name was Lola?”_

_Crowley gave as much of a shrug as he could while in chains. “I’ve always had a thing for Manilow,” he mumbled._

_You wanted to roll your eyes, but just knew you’d hurt yourself doing it with the force required by that statement. “All right, Tony, I get it. I’ll be back.”_

_When you returned, you were pushing a cart full of stuff. While Crowley watched, you set up something like a shower cubicle inside the devil’s trap on the floor, which conveniently had a drain underneath the center of it. You didn’t want to ask why the Men of Letters felt the need for a drain in a dungeon. You were pretty sure you didn’t need to._

_You didn’t hang up a curtain, though, not wanting Crowley to be able to do anything you couldn’t see. He needed to stop stinking up the place, not find a way to phone home or escape. As Crowley eyed the setup he developed a slimy smirk._

_“You want me to get naked, Perdita?”_

_This time, you did roll your eyes, and yeah, it hurt._

_“I want to stop gagging every time I come near this room, Crowley. Unfortunately, that involves cleaning you up. Now, if you want to shower with your suit on, that’s fine by me, but I thought you’d rather I have it dry-cleaned.”_

_Crowley stared at you long enough to make you shift uncomfortably._

_“What?”_

_“Why are you doing this? I’m a junkie demon. There’s nothing in this for you but risk of me getting loose and possibly hurting you to escape.”_

_You glared at him. “Do you really want to question this?”_

_He sighed. “Probably not.”_

_“Good. Don’t make me regret it.”_

_You attached the shackle around his neck to a longer chain giving him more room to move, then unlocked all of the others. “You play nice, you get to be clean and comfortable. You hurt me, you’ll get an angel blade to the gut courtesy of a Winchester. Got it?”_

_Crowley nodded, keeping his head low._

_True to his word, he behaved, not even commenting on the cold water or dead guy robe you gave him to wear afterward. When everything was cleaned up, he sat back down like a model prisoner, holding out his wrists for you to shackle._

_You picked up everything and headed out the door. Almost so quietly you couldn’t hear him, Crowley said, “Thank you, Y/N.”_

_“You’re welcome,” you said as you closed the door behind you._


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's hunt.

The Winchesters came back into the room behind you, and you turned around to see all three of them looking like something out of a movie. Crowley grimaced at the men, then turned to you with a gentle smile, offered you his arm, and asked, “Ready?”

You nodded, feeling completely mute. With another snap of his fingers, the five of you were all standing in the shadows outside a large mansion, watching well-dressed couples walk from their cars up to the door. Crowley took your hand off his arm but kept hold of it while he slipped a pair of rings on the third finger of your left hand.

The rings were breathtaking. The engagement ring was a Celtic Claddagh ring, with large teardrop diamonds making up the heart. The wedding ring was engraved with Celtic knots that looped infinitely around the ring. While you were entranced by the rings, Crowley gave plain bands to Dean and Sam, and then a matching wedding band of Celtic design to John. Your eyes were still glued to the rings on your hand, the diamonds catching the rare glint of light from the mansion. Crowley stood before you, watching you stare at the rings, then took both of your hands in his. You felt a tingle in your fingertips, and when he opened his hands, your short, nondescript nails were long and beautifully manicured. Without letting go of your hands, he addressed all of you.

“The rings are trackers, so I can find you if there’s trouble. They’re also communicators. You’ll be able to hear each other, and I’ll be able to hear you outside. If you’re in trouble and can’t speak, tap the ring against something three times.”

Crowley finally let go of your hands and turned to the brothers to go over their part of the plan. They were going to try and figure out where the item was while you hobnobbed at the party. If they could steal it during the party with nobody the wiser, that would be great. If not, then the four of you would take down the angel when he grabbed his victims for the night and steal the item on your way out. Crowley described it as being in a box with a Celtic design on it and gave Dean a charm that would glow if he got close to it.

In spite of the warm air, you felt a chill go through you and shivered. John stepped beside you and put an arm around your shoulders. His warmth seeped into you, making you smile up at him in thanks and suppress a pang in your heart. Once the plan was in place, you were off to dance and keep an eye on an angel.

John offered you his arm, and you took it gratefully, leaning on him shamelessly. The two of you walked to the door silently, presenting your invitation to the butler, who smiled and waved you in the door. After that, it was all supposed to be gravy.

John led you into the ballroom and snagged you each a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. In the back of your head, you heard Dean and Sam whispering to each other about grabbing jackets and trays and blending in with the staff. You tried not to gulp down the champagne, knowing you needed to be on your toes if you were going to catch an angel without losing innocent bystanders. You kept your eyes on the crowd, looking for anyone who might be the host. John distracted you by putting his arm around your waist, and you tried to control your breathing, which seemed to want to run away without you.

“Dad? Y/N? We haven’t heard much from your end. Are these things working?”

You looked up at John, wondering what you could say that wouldn’t sound strange to the crowd around you.

“We should dance. It might be quieter on the dance floor. I can barely hear myself think over here,” John said, leaning in towards your ear, as if you couldn’t hear him perfectly from where he was standing next to you.

“10-4, Dad. Hear you loud and clear,” said Dean from somewhere in the back of your mind.

But now you had to dance with John Winchester.

John led you onto the floor and pulled you into his arms. Your left hand rested on his shoulder, your right hand was resting on his chest, nestled into his hand. His right hand was big and warm on your lower back, sending heat through so much of you even your cheeks burned. Your shoes gave you just enough height that you could see over his shoulder, so you tried to concentrate on looking around for the angel instead of focusing on how John’s body felt against yours. You failed.

It was like you were floating, spinning around the floor among all the other couples. John’s steps were easy to follow, which was a good thing, or you would have stepped on his feet out of distraction. His chin rested against your temple, his breath warm over your scalp. The hunt all but forgotten, you melted into his arms, wishing this hunt could last forever.

“I’m sorry it’s me here and not Dean,” John mumbled almost directly into your ear.

Reality crashed into your little dream world, making you stifle a whimper. “It’s okay, John,” you said, trying to think fast for a way out of this conversation. “You’re probably a better dancer, anyway.”

In the back of your mind, Sam laughed, and Dean muttered something about being a fine dancer, and someday he’d dance your freaking pants off. You hadn’t realized you could hear Sam’s bitchface before that moment, but you heard a noise that told you that was what was happening. Both you and John tried to stifle a giggle before anyone around you heard, but there was no need. The host of the party had arrived.

At one end of the room, there was a small stage where the string quartet was playing. In the center of it stood a tall, gaunt man with slightly greying hair. He spoke into an old-fashioned microphone, welcoming everyone to the party and inviting you to have a good time. When he was finished, you and John moved through the crowd, wanting to keep an eye on him now that you’d found him.

For the next hour, you followed the angel around his party. You danced, you ate canapes, you wondered what canapes were, and you tried to avoid lengthy conversations since neither one of you knew how to properly hobnob with the rich and bored. John kept you just out of sight from the angel, and you hoped he was too preoccupied with finding a new mark to notice the two of you stalking him. Throughout it all, you pressed against John, feeling safer than any hunter should in the lair of a monster, just because he was there with you.

At one point, you stepped into an opulent bathroom, complete with attached lounge, which was outfitted with fainting sofas and full-length mirrors. As you made your way through the room to the bathroom, itself, a couple of other women were chatting to each other.

“I don’t know who he is, but he’s the best-looking man to come to one of these things in years!” one woman exclaimed, fanning herself genteelly with her hand.

Her friend saw you and laid a hand on her, stopping her from saying more. You guessed she’d been talking about John and gave them both a smile to let them know you didn’t mind. On your way back out, both women were still there, whispering to each other. Knowing you looked just as fantastic as they did made you extra confident, so you stepped closer to them for just a moment.

“Not only is he the best-looking man here, ladies, he’s a lot more than just a pretty face,” you said with a wink and a smile as you headed back to the ballroom. You heard the gasps of the women behind you but didn’t care. Let them be jealous.

As you walked toward John, though, Crowley brought you back down to earth.

“Now, now, darling, can’t be bringing too much attention to yourself by stirring up the local Ladies’ Auxiliary. It’s bad enough you’re outshining them tonight. There’s no need for their husbands to dislike you both, too.”

You were approaching John’s side, now, and he looked down at you with an odd expression you couldn’t read. Dropping his gaze and shuffling his feet, he scratched his beard with one hand as he dropped his other hand to the small of your back.

“Besides, don’t want to make Dean jealous, now, do we?” John murmured in your ear.

Your heart dropped as reality smacked you down once again. That’s right. John thinks you’re with Dean. Plastering on a fake smile, you grabbed another glass of champagne and downed half of it while looking around the room for the angel.

You were spared from saying more by Dean and Sam excitedly reporting that they found the box and were heading up to the party to actually be waiters for a while, so they could back you up. Crowley seemed pleased that his part of the night was completed and anxious for you all to leave. Arguments passed back and forth, ultimatums traded and volleyed, all in the back of your mind. In the meantime, out of the corner of your eye, you saw the angel ushering a couple away from the ballroom.

“Guys? I think the spider caught a fly and is taking it back to the web.”

Everything after that went quickly. You and John followed the host and the couple, giving directions to Sam and Dean until you all converged on him at the entrance to his wine cellar. When he saw you, the angel puffed out his shoulders and you saw his wings spread out in a show of power, but you weren’t cowed. The two would-be victims were shooed away while the four of you battled to take him down. In the shuffle, the angel got control of you, since you were slowed down by the stupid shoes and floor-length gown. He waved an arm, and you were held against a wall, feeling a hand closing around your throat. As everything went black, you saw the Winchesters fighting to get free.

When you woke up, Dean was leaning over you, patting your cheek. “C’mon, Bigs. You can’t let a little invisible force choking you take you out. That’s a rookie move.”

Looking up into his green eyes, you smiled and cleared your throat. “Well, the one thing no one can say about me, anymore, is that I’m a rookie.”

Dean’s face broke into a wide grin and he pulled you close into a crushing hug. “That’s my Bigs,” he said, quietly, his face buried in your hair.

Dean’s hold on you finally loosened, giving you a chance to look around. In one corner, the burnt impression of wings was on the floor and one of the walls, but the body was already gone. In the other corner, Sam was leaning over John, doing much the same to him as Dean had done to you. Like a shot, you were kneeling on the other side of John, looking at bruises forming on his face and a rivulet of blood dripping out of the side of his mouth. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was even, but labored.

“I think he broke a couple of ribs in the fight. I think he’ll be okay, assuming he wakes up soon,” Sam said, looking up at you with worried eyes like he used to when he was little.

“Why is he out in the first place? What happened?” you asked, your voice weaker than you expected.

“The angel knocked him around pretty good. He thought you were dead, and just went full-on righteous fury on his ass,” said Dean, rubbing your back to ground you.

Your hand flew to your mouth as a choked sob threatened to escape. You took a deep breath and forced your heart to settle so your brain could engage.

“All right. Well…. He had to be bringing that couple here for a reason, so I’m guessing that wine cellar might have more victims. I’ll stay here with John since I’m pretty useless in these shoes while you two check it out.”

Dean and Sam nodded and quickly headed through the door. You got comfortable next to John, putting his head in your lap and stroking his hair, running your fingers through the strands to straighten them from the mess the fight had left them in.

“Come on, John. You need to wake up and tell me you’re okay. I lost you once, and I don’t think I can do it again. You can’t die again, not without knowing how I feel. That was my biggest regret the last time, you know. You were gone, the boys pushed me away, and I was alone, knowing I’d never had the guts to say what I should have said. I swear, baby, you wake up right now, and I’ll tell you everything. Just wake up, John. You have to wake up.”

In the back of your mind, you heard the boys talking to victims, encouraging them to move, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the man in front of you. A couple of tears fell from your eyes, landing on your dress and darkening the fabric. Noise grew behind the door until it flew open, Dean and Sam helping other victims up the stairs. They both looked at you, then nodded that they were heading out, letting you know without words that they’d be back for you. A few minutes later, they returned. Dean and Sam squatted down on either side of John, then pulled him up so his arms were over their shoulders, his head hanging down between them and his feet dragging behind them. You watched them carry him away before you got yourself up on your feet, wiping your cheeks dry as you followed.

Crowley was waiting outside, the victims already gone. With a snap of his fingers, you were all back in the bunker, standing in the library. Dean and Sam put John on the table while Dean bellowed for Cas. Crowley took your left hand in his, catching your attention.

The demon’s eyes caressed the rings on your hand while his thumb rubbed your skin for a moment. With a glance at your face, he carefully removed the rings from your finger as gently as he had placed them there a few hours earlier. “It’s a pity, really. They suited you.” With a snap of his fingers, three more rings joined the ones you’d been wearing in his palm, and he put them all in his pocket. He gave you a gentle smile, then turned back to the room, where you saw Cas healing John. The Winchester patriarch took a deep breath as his eyes opened, and he sat up, looking around the room until his eyes fell on you. His mouth turned up in a smile, and you felt yours do the same.

Crowley traded snide remarks with Dean until Dean dug into his pockets and pulled out the box and the charm. Once they were in Crowley’s hands, he nodded at all of you and disappeared in a blink.

“What was in the box, anyway?” you asked, curiosity finally getting the better of you.

“No clue,” Dean replied. “Couldn’t get it open. I’m just hoping it’s not the One Ring or something.”


	31. 1990

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1990 - John comes home from a hunt.

_1990_

_Ever since you’d become an adult, John had leaned on you a bit more to watch the boys when he went on hunts. You were a lot more mobile, since your schooling was done, and he didn’t have to ask your parents for permission, though he still did. Both boys were in school, now, and moving them around was a pain. He tried to stick to hunts that were within a couple of hours of wherever he put the boys and only called you when he had to go further out._

_The autumn air was crisp, but not yet cold, and the boys were playing at a playground next to the small house John was renting. You were watching them both, letting them do their own thing as long as they didn’t try to break their heads open. Dean was climbing on the jungle gym, and Sam was going down the slide._

_Suddenly, little Sammy ran toward you, arms outstretched, yelling, “Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” He slammed into you, almost knocking you over, then wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you in a tight hug._

_“What brought this on, little guy?” you joked, enjoying the affection the youngest Winchester was bestowing upon you._

_He looked up at you with his little face simply beaming. “Nothin’. Just wanted to,” he said brightly. You picked him up and hugged him properly, glad you were still strong enough to pick him up, in spite of how big he was getting. Dean walked up behind him, eyebrows furrowed, one of his cheeks developing a nasty-looking bruise._

_“Is Sammy okay? Did he fall or something?”_

_Laughing, you answered Dean over Sammy’s shoulder. “Nope. We’re just having a hug-o-war, that’s all!” You peeled Sam off your shoulders and set him down next to you. Looking at Sam, you nodded your head towards Dean with a mischievous grin. Sam got the message, and you both turned on Dean, knocking him over into the soft, leaf-covered grass. The two of you tickled Dean mercilessly until he begged you to stop, hiccupping through his words. When you were all calmed down, he got up and grabbed a football someone had left behind, yelling to his brother where to go to catch it._

_You followed Sam, catching the throws when Dean threw too high or if the ball went way out of Sam’s range or toward the street. You taught Sam how to hold the football, lining his fingers up with the laces, and how to throw it with a spiral so it would fly longer. Sam picked it up quickly, and soon Dean was running further and further to catch Sam’s throws. After a particularly long run, he threw the ball half-heartedly at Sam and then jogged over towards you. Dean slapped his little brother’s shoulders, telling him what a good job he’d done and beaming down at him._

_You ruffled Dean’s hair and smiled, so proud of Dean for how he always took care of his brother. You tried not to think about all of the times Dean had taken care of Sam alone. John did the best he could. John didn’t know that you would be willing to stay with the boys all the time, that you dreamed of somehow calling his sons your own. John tried his best not to bother you, not knowing that being away from the Winchesters bothered you so much more. You’d wanted to tell him, but you didn’t know how to do it without also telling him you loved him._

_Your high school crush was still intact, and stronger than ever. This time, when John had left, you’d almost swooned before you caught yourself. He just looked so good as he walked to the Impala._

_Dean was teasing Sam, now, about his hair... again. You wrapped an arm around his neck and gave his head a quick rub, teasing him right back. Sam came to his brother’s defense, hanging on your arm, and soon all three of you were rolling around on the ground again, laughing loudly._

_All of a sudden, Dean stiffened and got out of your reach, standing up stiffly, whispering, “Dad. He’s here.”_

_You and Sam both looked around, spotting the tall and imposing figure near the entrance to the park. Dean started heading over, but you grabbed his hand, taking Sam’s in your other hand. You never knew what mood John would be in when he came back from a hunt. If the hunt went badly, it was better to be well-behaved._

_As you approached John, you tried to read his expression, hoping to figure out before he spoke how the hunt went, but you’d never seen that exact look on his face before. John’s eyes widened when he saw the bruise on Dean’s face, his face hardening. Before you got within earshot, you leaned over and whispered to Dean, “I’ll take care of it. Remember, I’m responsible here.” When you were closer, you spoke so John could hear you. “Okay, boys, say hi to your dad and then go get washed up for dinner. Quick, quick, lickety split!” You clapped your hands as both boys hugged their dad, shooing them off before John could say anything. John waited until the boys were back in the house, watching them every step of the way, before he spoke._

_“I thought I said the boys were supposed to be learning how to fight and how to shoot? And what’s with Dean’s face? That certainly doesn’t look like he’s learning how to fight, unless you gave it to him by accident?”_

_Taking a deep breath to settle your nerves, you faced John as calmly as possible, ignoring the temper you saw building behind his eyes._

_“We have been training when they’re done with their homework, every night, except for tonight. They had a rough day at school, so I decided to give them some downtime.”_

_John took a breath to speak, but you shook your head and held up a finger to stop him._

_“No, hear me out. An older boy was messing with Sammy at the playground after school. Sam waits there for Dean for about fifteen minutes before I walk them both home. I hadn’t gotten there, yet, so I didn’t see anything until it was over. This kid was big, bigger than Dean, even though I think he was younger. Apparently, he’s been saying stuff ever since the boys got here, about where they live, and the clothes they wear. You know, typical rich kid bullshit. Anyone who doesn’t have the right shoes gets bullied. Anyway, today, Dean caught him talking smack to Sam, trying to rile him up. Sam was smart, wasn’t engaging, just minding his own business. Dean came over to check on Sam, so the kid decided to step up his game. The kid pushed Dean and Dean told him to back off. I got there just in time to see the kid sucker punch Dean, and Dean just laid him out.” You couldn’t resist a proud smile just then. “I already gave him the speech about how we don’t punch in school, but I gotta say, John, what Dean did was a thing of beauty!”_

_John stood there, absorbing all the information you threw at him, just breathing. Your breaths stopped, waiting for his reaction._

_“Come on, John, Dean already had enough fighting for one day, and Sam felt awful for having gotten Dean hurt, and they just needed some downtime to do nothing and laugh for a change.”_

_John wiped a hand down his face and sighed. “Fine. You’re right. They deserve a night off.”_

_The two of you turned towards the entrance and started walking back to the house. A weight had been lifted from your shoulders, now that John had made his decision and supported you._

_“So, how was the hunt?” you asked, hoping to get a better feel for the man’s frame of mind._

_“Not great, but the job’s done. Lost too many people before we figured it out.”_

_You offered to do research for him again the next time he was away, and you chatted about hunts and such until you got to the door. Once you were inside, Sam flitted around you both, helping you set the table while John talked to Dean about the fight. You took the lasagna out of the oven and put it on the table, laughing when Sam pulled your chair out for you._

_“Guys are supposed to do that for nice ladies. We were talking ‘bout manners in school today. Guys are supposed to help ladies sit and go through doors and anything else they need help with. Isn’t that right, Dad?”_

_John chuckled and smiled. “Yeah, Sammy, that’s right.”_

_Sam turned his ever-inquisitive mind to his father. “How come you don’t do stuff like that for Y/N, then, Dad? You should do nice stuff for her!”_

_You nearly choked on your dinner but managed to swallow without needing the Heimlich. “Sammy, honey, it’s okay. I’m not the kind of woman who needs that stuff. Besides, it’s more for when a man really likes a special lady. I mean, it’s nice to do nice things like that for anyone, but I’m not anyone. I mean….” You covered your face with your hand for a moment while you tried to gather your thoughts. “Oh lord,” you mumbled._

_Sam just looked back and forth between you and his father. “I’m just sayin’, Dad, you should be nicer to Y/N, that’s all,” he said with a half shrug, digging back into his dinner._

_You closed your eyes and wondered if the floor could eat you up right at that exact second. “Sam, your Dad is nice to me. There’s no need for him to go opening doors or helping me sit when I’m perfectly capable of handling those things by myself.”_

_John waved at you with his fork and glared at his son. “Yeah. What she said.”_

_The rest of dinner was quiet, the discomfort settling thick over the table. At least, that’s how it felt to you. After dinner, you checked in with Sam to make sure he was ready for bed. Once he was tucked in, he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to you._

_“I wrote that for Ms. Honeywell. Do you think she’ll like it? She said it’s nice to give flowers and poems, too.”_

_You looked over the poem, trying to contain your laughter because you didn’t want to discourage him. “I think she’ll love it, Sam.”_


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the hunt, Sam needs to talk.

After Cas healed you at everyone’s insistence, you decided to head to bed and get some rest. Okay, maybe you were also hiding from your feelings about John and the promise you’d made to him. Charlie offered to come and help you wind down after the hunt, but you refused her, brushing off her and anyone else who looked like they were going to follow you. You felt eyes on you, but you didn’t want to find out whose they were or why they wouldn’t leave you alone.

Once in your room, you collapsed on the bed, fully dressed. Lying there, your mind replayed the entire night. Crowley’s face as he slid the rings onto your finger. His face as he pulled them off your finger. John standing in the ballroom nursing a glass of champagne as you returned from the bathroom. John holding you steady as you danced. John lying on the floor, his head in your lap, not responding. John carried by his sons, his body limp. John waking up and looking for you.

A knock on the door threw you out of your reverie, and you realized you’d been alone for 15 minutes and were still wearing the stupid dress. Shaking your head, you opened the door to see Sam standing there, a mournful expression on his face.

“I know you wanted to be alone, but there’s something I need to talk to you about, and I don’t want to wait.” His puppy eyes were on full blast, and you shook your head in defeat.

“Put the eyes away, Sam. I need help getting out of this monstrosity, anyway.”

Sam walked past you and you shut the door behind him. “You know, I kind of got the feeling Crowley would be more than willing to help you get out of that dress,” Sam teased, raising one eyebrow and chuckling.

Shaking your head, you winced. “Yeah. I’m not sure what’s up with that all of a sudden.” Turning around, you waved at your back. “Just unzip this thing so I can put on some sweats or something.”

After having lived off and on with Dean and Sam for most of the thirty years you’d known them, there was no longer any modesty between you. You’d seen them in their underwear, they’d seen you in your bra and panties, and it was no longer anything to get excited about. Usually, it was more worrisome than exciting because it meant someone needed stitches. Sam unzipping you and not running away when the dress fell away from you wasn’t even something you worried about. You changed into pajamas, trying not to think about the fancy bra and panties you were still wearing, neither of which you’d ever seen before that moment. Crowley picking out lingerie for you was a worry for another day.

Finally comfortable, you settled on your bed next to Sam, who had made himself at home sitting up against the headboard. Your side pressed against his as you waited for him to talk.

“I’m guessing you didn’t intend for all of us to hear everything you said to Dad tonight, did you?”

Heat flushed your face. “In the moment, I’d kind of forgotten you all could hear me.”

Sam nodded. “That’s what I figured.” He shifted so he was no longer pressed up against you but was almost facing you. “You know that we never meant to push you away after he died, right? We never meant to leave you alone. We thought you’d be okay with Bobby while we went off to get our heads on straight.”

Putting a hand up to his cheek, you tried to reassure Sam. “I know, Sam. I know you had the best of intentions. Honestly, until you were gone, I thought I’d be fine, too. Then, I was left sitting in Bobby’s house, no clue where you’d gone, feeling like I’d lost my family all in one fell swoop. For one shining moment, right before he died, long before I knew what he’d done, I felt like I was family, and not just the babysitter. I thought he finally saw me, and maybe we could have something, and I could call you and your brother more than just the kids I used to babysit, and then he was just gone. When you and Dean drove off without so much as telling me and Bobby where you were going, I honestly thought I’d never see you again and that I’d lost everything.

“So, yeah. For a while, things were pretty dark for me. But you came back. And that’s when I realized I hadn’t lost you. You were family, and you considered me family, too. That’s been the best gift you boys could ever give me, you know?”

Sam wrapped his arms around you and crushed you to him, so very differently than the way you were used to comforting him. You let him have it for a moment, then pulled away and pushed him to settle next to you the way he always had when he was little. He curled into your side, his ridiculously long legs stretching out way past yours, so his feet hung off the end of the bed, and wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your chest. “I’m so sorry we hurt you, Bigs. You’re the closest thing to a mom I’ve ever had, and I’d be lost without you.”

Overwhelmed by the rush of love you felt, you rubbed his back and smiled down at him trying to make himself small again. “It’s okay, Smalls. Really. That was so long ago.”

Sam shifted so he was lying next to you, curled into you. “You’ve always had a thing for Dad, haven’t you?”

You stiffened, then tried to relax. “Yeah, Sam. He’s not always easy, but he’s not a hard man to love.” Your heart skipped a beat waiting to hear Sam’s reaction.

Sam’s voice was so quiet you could barely hear him. “You know, when I was little, I used to wish Dad would marry you, so we could settle down and you could be my mom.”

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill. You swallowed to fight them, not knowing what to say or how to say it.

“I mean, I think I was a teenager when I realized that even if you and Dad did get together, our life wouldn’t change much. I said something to Dean about it once. I might have been eight or so. He got so mad at the thought that I was trying to replace Mom that he wouldn’t speak to me for a week.”

Your hands had a mind of their own, following the paths they had taken for years while you spoke. “You know I never wanted to replace your mom, right? No matter how much I love you and your brother, I would never want that.”

Sam’s arms tightened around you for a moment before relaxing again. “I know. You’ve always been careful not to tread on her memory.”

You both were quiet for a while, neither one of you knowing what to say to the other. Winchesters weren’t known for talking about subjects like this, and you’d both stalled.

“If you like Dad so much, why did you agree to let him think that you’re with Dean?”

The tension broken, you chuckled and sighed. “Because your brother is an idiot, and like you, I’d do anything for him. He seems to think your dad will tell Ellen about him and Jo, hence the show.”

Sam shifted away from you, so he could look up at you, his head resting on his elbow. “Does he really think Ellen doesn’t know?”

A laugh burst out of you as you shook your head. “I don’t know. At this point, I think the only people who don’t know are John, Crowley, and Cas, and I’m willing to bet that Crowley knows something is going on, even if he doesn’t know details.”

Sam shook his head and smiled. “My brother’s an idiot.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, you promised yourself (with an audience) that you would tell John how you feel. But will you really? You totally will. After you take a breath. Yup. Just need that breath.

You and Sam talked into the night, eventually falling asleep out of exhaustion. He told you that Cas had been called by Chuck up to Heaven to try and sort things out up there, and then started gossiping about Ellen and Bobby. You talked about Claire, and then teased Sam about Jody, making him blush the most adorable shade of crimson.

You had no nightmares that night, which seemed to always be the case when one of your boys bunked with you. When you woke up in the morning, he was gone, probably on his morning run. You knew you really had no reason to, but you dreaded leaving your bedroom and possibly running into John. After the emotions of the night before, you just needed some time away from him to get yourself back on track.

_What I really need are a nice, big set of brass balls to either put up or shut up about last night’s promise. Now that Crowley knows, he’s got leverage. Not good._

Thinking some fresh air might do you good, you told Bobby you were going for a drive and hopped into your car.

In nearby Smith Center, there was a small park you’d go to sometimes when you needed a dose of normality after spending so much time in a bunker full of supernatural knowledge and artifacts. There was a playground there, and if the weather was nice, you could watch kids playing, and remember when Dean and Sam were that age. Before everything was the end of the world, they were just two kids playing on a playground, relying on you to make them bologna sandwiches.

You were deep in your memories when Crowley appeared next to you.

Startled, you jumped a little in your seat and turned to look at the demon. “Sheesh, Crowley! I’m starting to think Dean’s right about you knocking!” Crowley gave you an apologetic smile and you both turned back to look at the children playing.

“I couldn’t help overhearing last night, you know.”

Heat rushed to your face before you forced yourself to calm down. “I figured. Had a long talk with Sam about it, too. I’m pretty sure John, and maybe Cas, are the only people left who don’t know how I feel.”

“I gathered John seems to think there’s something going on between you and Dean, but you didn’t disabuse him of that notion. Correct me if I’m wrong, but there isn’t anything between you and Dean, is there?” Crowley’s question sounded like anything but a question, leaving you to sigh.

“Nope. I’m doing it as a favor to Dean. It’s a long story.”

Crowley let you sit there quietly for a moment. “You care for those boys as if they were yours. I’ve never understood it.”

“As a demon, I wouldn’t expect you to, Crowley.”

He gave a half-shrug of agreement. “Touché.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “When I was at the worst of my dalliance with human blood, and the Winchesters had me locked in their dungeon, you looked after me, too. Checked on me often, brought me food and water, even though I didn’t need it, and made sure I was comfortable. I’ve seen you do the same for everyone who has crossed your path, but I never expected to ever be the recipient of such… kindness.”

You looked over at the demon sitting next to you, taking in his soft expression. “Crowley, are you high again? You’ve never been this sentimental when you were sober before.”

Crowley shrugged. “Just making an observation. There are some women in this world who bear children only to leave them with nothing to go off and take what they think the world owes to them. Yet, you… you, who has never had a child of her own, takes in the abandoned, the orphaned, the sick, and the desperate, and you care for them with no thought of your own well-being. You cared for the King of Hell the same way you cared for the Righteous Man, never asking for a thing in return. And now, after a lifetime of giving yourself away, when the one thing you’ve always wanted is standing right in front of you, you walk away rather than take it because one of your borrowed children asked you to.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Crowley,” you argued. “Dean and I aren’t the only people in this equation, you know. John just lost his soulmate for the second time, and this time, there’s no hope of seeing her again in Heaven. He’s grieving. There’s no reason for him to look at me twice, and therefore, no reason for him to know how I feel. It’s a moot point, so why deny Dean?”

Crowley was quiet for a while, giving you time to pick out a child playing on the slide and watch him. He reminded you a little of Dean when you met him. Sun-kissed hair, big eyes, and a serious expression as he worked to climb the ladder, his mother standing by to catch him if he fell. The pure joy on his face when he launched himself down the slide made you smile.

“I want to make you an offer, Y/N.”

Putting up a hand, you stopped him right there. “Crowley, you know I’m smarter than to make a deal with you. I’ve never been good with fine print, and you’re the master of loopholes and clauses. No deal.”

Crowley frowned and sighed, adjusting his suit. “I wasn’t asking you for a deal, Perdita. I was making you an offer. Instead of doing what you’re doing for the Winchesters and getting nothing in return, come and do what you do for me, and I’ll give you the world.”

Crowley’s offer surprised you so much, you shifted away from him on the bench, so you could look him in the eye. “You… you want me… to… what?”

“You heard me, Y/N. Instead of working for the Winchesters and getting nothing in return, come and work for me, and I’ll give you everything you could ever want. Power, money, safety, knowledge, whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish while Crowley’s offer bounced around in your head. When your brain finally disentangled itself, you found the words to refuse him.

“Crowley, I don’t stay with the Winchesters because of what they can give me. I stay because they’re my family. And they do give me so much that you can’t see. Borrowed or not, they’re mine, and I can’t leave them.”

Crowley sighed with a frown. “I thought you might say that.”

With one hand, he reached into his pocket, while his other hand took one of yours. He pulled out a long necklace with a beautiful charm on the end and pressed the pendant into your palm.

“ _Audite me, sequi me, placere me, intellege me, ama me._ ” _(Listen to me, follow me, please me, understand me, love me.)_

A rush of warmth flooded through your body, rushing from your hand clasped in Crowley’s until you were tingly all over. As you looked at the demon, you finally saw him for what he really was: a boy who just wanted his mother to love him, but she had rejected him time and again. Over and over, she renounced him, she abandoned him, and she worked against him, betraying him to the highest bidder. He had spent his entire existence seeking power, hoping it would fill the hole she had left in him, but it was never enough. In spite of hundreds of years as a demon, that little boy who just wanted to be loved was still sitting before you, asking you to love him.

And you did.

“Oh, Crowley,” you said, throwing your arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly, trying to push your love and affection into him through your very skin. “Of course, I’ll come take care of you. Dean and Sam have so many people, now, but you don’t have anyone, do you?” Pulling away from Crowley, you caressed his cheek and gave him a gentle smile.

“I do now, though, don’t I?” Crowley smiled as you continued touching him, straightening his tie, and picking imaginary lint off his suit. “And to honor this new relationship of ours, I’d like to give you a present that is very near and dear to my heart.” Opening his hand, he showed you the most gorgeous pendant you’d ever seen. It was the same dark green as his eyes, and it entranced you immediately. While you were gazing at the stone in the pendant, he draped the necklace around your neck. “Would you do me the honor of wearing this all the time for me? Nothing would make me happier than knowing that you treasure this as much as I treasure you.”

“Of course! Whatever makes you happy!” Crowley smiled at your response and you felt the warmth rush through you again.

Crowley took both of your hands in his and looked at you fondly. “I’m so glad to see something of what I gave you last night still remains, even if it is just a manicure. You deserve to be spoiled, and hands as beautiful as these deserve to be covered in jewels. May I?”

He pulled out the rings you had worn the night before and slipped them back on your finger. Seeing yet another sign of Crowley’s affection for you warmed your heart and made you beam at him.

“This is too much, Crowley. You’re really going to spoil me rotten, aren’t you?”

The demon smiled. “Nothing’s too good for you, my darling.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley arranges for a little pampering while his spell keeps you from worrying.

With his warm hand in yours, Crowley transported you to the asylum that he called home. You’d been there once before, with the Winchesters when they were trying to defeat Amara when she was still young, but this time you got to appreciate the décor. Although everything was a bit dark, it was all high quality and beautiful. Crowley had a room prepared for you, along with a vast closet full of clothing, all designed and made just for you. He also assigned two demons to be your maids and help you with anything you desired. When you started to argue that everything was too much, he took your hands in his again, looking deep into your eyes.

“I want you to enjoy your downtime here. I want you to appreciate the finer things and realize that you deserve them. It would please me if you could do that for me.”

“Okay, Crowley, I will. I guess after thirty years spent trying to save the world I do deserve a little downtime and some pampering. Not for too long, though, okay? ‘Idle hands are the devil’s playthings’ and all that, right?”

Crowley laughed and squeezed your hands. “Don’t you worry, love, I’ll have plenty to keep you busy soon enough.” He led you to the bed and encouraged you to sit down. “Now, I have to go attend to matters of state. Why don’t you take this time to make yourself familiar with your rooms and do a little of that pampering we talked about?”

You nodded, and he turned towards the door. Before he left, he looked at you one last time and said, “Oh, and if the Winchesters call looking for you, be sure to tell them that you’re okay and they’re not to worry about you. They have so many people there to take of them, now, but you’re all I have. And I don’t want them interrupting your ‘me time’ by busting in here, so you shouldn’t mention where we are, either. You’re perfectly safe here. Okay, love?”

“Yes, Crowley. I know you would never let anything bad happen to me.”

Crowley smiled as he walked out the door, giving you that rush of warmth again. Deciding that a nap would be a good start to pampering yourself, you settled into what had to be the softest bed you’d ever experienced and quickly fell asleep.

A rocking guitar riff woke you from your sleep a couple of hours later, and you answered your phone, the screen showing a picture of Dean laughing.

“Hey there, Dean!”

“Y/N! Where the hell are you? You’ve been gone for hours!”

“I’m okay, Dean. Really, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Where did you go? Bobby said you went out for some air, but that was five hours ago!”

“I went to the park to get some fresh air, just like I said. I’m okay, and there’s no reason for you to worry about me.”

“If you’re okay, then why aren’t you back, yet? Are you still at the park?”

“I just got a little sidetracked, but I’m okay, Dean. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Sidetracked? Sidetracked, how? You shopping or something?”

You let out a sigh and shook your head with a smile, even though you knew Dean couldn’t see it. Dean was always worried about you. “No, Dean. Crowley dropped by to chat, and I’m with him. It’s no big deal.”

“You’re with _Crowley???”_ Dean’s voice hit a pitch you hadn’t heard in a while, so you rushed to reassure him.

“I’m perfectly safe, Dean. Crowley would never let anything bad happen to me. I’m okay, I swear.”

You heard the tone of the background sounds on the other end of the line change and you guessed Dean had put you on speaker phone. “Why are you with Crowley? Has he done something to you?”

“Dean, I’m fine. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly safe. Crowley would never let anything bad happen to me.”

“I heard you the first three times you said that, Bigs, but it doesn’t mean I believe it. _Where are you?_ ”

“Look, Dean, I’m where I’m needed right now, and I’m perfectly safe, so you can stop worrying.”

“If you’re okay and you’re safe, then come home. We need you _here_ , Bigs.”

A part of your heart tugged at your brain, and a sharp ache tore through your chest, but you forced yourself to ignore it. “No, Dean, you really don’t. Not as much as Crowley needs me.”

With a sad sigh, you ended the call and turned off your phone, hoping to avoid the endless calls and texts you’d get trying to convince you to go back to the bunker. A sharp pain cut through your chest as you pushed the button to power down the phone, but you ignored it. Crowley needed you to take care of him, you deserved some pampering, and you couldn’t let the Winchesters get in the way of that.

As soon as you ventured out of your room, one of your maids appeared to ask you if you needed anything. She led you to the throne room, where Crowley was sitting in a high-backed chair on a dais in front of a group of demons. When he saw you enter the room, he smiled and beckoned for you to join him before dismissing everyone else.

“How are you doing, love? Getting along okay?”

“Actually, all I’ve done so far is take a nap, but I thought you’d want to know that I heard from Dean. He didn’t seem happy that I’m with you.”

Crowley chuckled. “No, I suppose he’s not. You’ve always been there for him, even when he treated you badly and left you behind. He can’t imagine that you might want a life of your own that’s away from him. Well, you deserve to do something for yourself, and I’m determined to help you do that. Have you eaten?”

Crowley was more than gracious, summoning a delicious late lunch and sharing it with you in a beautiful dining room. Afterwards, he arranged a spa day for you, complete with a massage, facial, something called a seaweed wrap, a mud bath, and several other treatments you didn’t really understand, but loved. When you were fully rubbed, scrubbed, and relaxed, the attendants took you to your closet and helped you pick out beautiful clothes that accentuated your features, but weren’t ridiculously uncomfortable. The entire outfit was loose and flowy but still showed off your curves. Delicate strappy sandals that showed off your new pedicure were the icing on the cake. You were offered jewelry, but with the pendant and rings Crowley had already given you, you were already wearing more jewelry than you’d ever worn before. One girl styled your hair while another did your makeup, and when they were done, you didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror.

As you entered the dining room for dinner, the smile on Crowley’s face gave you that rush of warmth you were becoming familiar with. He was pleased, and that was all you needed. When he was done looking you over, he pulled a simple, but beautiful, pair of earrings out of his pocket and presented them to you. They were green and purple with a Scottish thistle design in silver. They beautifully matched the rings and the pendant, and Crowley seemed happy that you liked them.

Dinner was another elegant affair, with perfectly cooked food like you’d never had before. As you were polishing off the last of your Baked Alaska, you looked thoughtfully at Crowley.

“You’ve taken such good care of me today, Crowley. Has anyone taken care of you before now?”

Crowley’s sadness was written all over his face. “Well, for a very short time, I thought my mother might decide to step up after we found each other again. However, it turns out there’s no way she can do anything but hate me. Although I understand her reasons, she explained them quite clearly, it’s still not something a son likes to hear. Before her, I thought maybe Lola… until she betrayed me to Abaddon. I have you to thank for cleaning me up after that. I have never forgotten your kindness.” Crowley took one of your hands in his across the table, rubbing your skin with his thumb. “That is why I’m trying to repay you, now. And, if my plans go as expected, I will have an even bigger reward for you tomorrow. You deserve the world, and I intend to give it to you.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Crowley, you’ve done enough. You’ve given me this wonderful day, and that’s really enough for me. Let me take care of you, now. I mean, that’s why you brought me here, right?”

Crowley smiled, and warmth filled you. Taking his hand, you led him from the dining room back to your quarters. You helped him remove his jacket and then settled yourself on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard. Like you’d done with Dean, Sam, Jo, and even Claire a time or two, you patted the bed next to you and encouraged Crowley to lay down. You settled him next to you, his head in your lap and his arms wrapped around you. One hand ran fingers through his hair while the other rubbed his back until he melted into you.

“Now, tell me everything that’s bothering you. This is a safe space. No judgement.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters come to save you, but not before Crowley gets what he wants.

When you woke up the next morning, you were alone in the bed, but you had expected that. You knew Crowley didn’t sleep, so you suspected he had left sometime after you had nodded off. He had also snapped you into a beautiful set of silk pajamas with a beautiful flower design. Stretching your body, you felt all the sore muscles that had been massaged into submission the day before slowly warm up, the stiffness from sleep ebbing away as you moved. Crowley’s words from the night before about having something planned for you today urged you to get ready for the day as quickly as possible. So far, everything he had surprised you with had been wonderful, and you couldn’t wait to see what else he had in store.

You were disappointed when you found out Crowley was gone, but his demons took care of you. One of your maids took you to the library, where you spent the day reading up on famous demon possessions throughout history and looked over a mighty tome that detailed the beginnings of witchcraft and the different branches of practice. When it was almost time for dinner, Crowley returned, looking just a little ruffled.

It only took a moment for you to stand and straighten Crowley’s tie, expressing concern for his less-than-perfect appearance. You knew how seriously he took his suits, and to see anything askew was a sign you should worry.

“I’m fine, now, my dear, but thank you for asking. I had hoped that my demons would be able to handle a simple errand, but alas, if you want something done right, you must do it yourself.” Crowley offered you his arm and led you to the dining room, where yet another fabulous meal was laid out. You ate nervously, too excited about the surprise Crowley had in store for you.

You had to give him credit, Crowley knew how to build suspense. He ate slowly, insisting on savoring every bite of the food he didn’t need to eat, knowing it was driving you crazy. No matter how hard you pushed or prodded, though, he wouldn’t give you a hint, or hurry the meal. When the last bite of gelato was finally consumed, he again offered you his arm and escorted you to the throne room.

Outside the door to the throne room, he stopped and faced you, giving you an affectionate smile and brushing your hair out of your face.

“My dear, before we go in there, I need to tell you that I want you to keep an open mind about this gift. I want you to embrace it as the gift that it is and recognize the possibilities that it will open up for you. I want you to understand that I’m trying to give you the world, and this is the first step. This is a good thing, and you shouldn’t be afraid of it.”

There was a shiver of fear and denial that rushed through your system before Crowley’s smile brought back the now-familiar warmth that calmed and soothed you. You gave him a nod and a smile, and Crowley’s smile increased as he turned and led you into the room.

In front of the throne, kneeling in iron shackles and with an odd contraption around her neck, was Rowena. She looked the worse for wear, with her hair looking tangled and wild and her dress dirty and torn. When you and Crowley entered the room, she all but hissed at you both.

“Consorting with a hunter again, Fergus? Tsk tsk tsk. You really don’t expect to keep any respect for yourself while she’s around, do you? Some may understand the attraction of the Winchesters, but their wee babysitter? Don’t you know there’s a pool going on how much longer she’ll survive? She’s outlived all of their other companions, so she’s on borrowed time, now.”

Rowena’s words made you nervous. Maybe she was right. Maybe having you around wouldn’t be good for Crowley, after all. You were a hunter, with nothing to offer the King of Hell but affection. If word got out that the King of Hell needed a powerless human like you, he’d be deposed in no time.

You took a step back from Crowley, ready to agree to leave for his own good, but Crowley wouldn’t have it. He put his arm around you to hold you next to him as he addressed his mother.

“Yet again, Mother, you underestimate me, and Y/N. When I’m done with her, Y/N will be a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Now, kindly shut up. I have work to do.”

Rowena’s mouth snapped shut, her lips sealed. Crowley turned to you and looked into your eyes. “Stay here, and don’t mind her. She’s inconsequential, at best, and will soon be less than that. Trust me.”

You nodded, thoughts of Rowena disappearing and feeling the nervous energy drain out of you. You trusted Crowley. He would protect you.

Crowley moved over to a cabinet off to the side of the room and pulled out the box that Dean had stolen from the angel’s mansion. With a few mumbled Gaelic-sounding words, the box popped open, revealing a long necklace with two pendants. The demons holding Rowena pulled her to her feet and brought her closer to you, so close you could reach out and touch her. A tugging in the back of your mind was trying to tell you to run, that you should be afraid, but then Crowley smiled at you, and it was gone. Crowley was happy, so you were happy.

The demons holding Rowena pushed her hands out towards you, and Crowley gently wrapped the chain around her wrists. He then reached for your hands and wrapped the chain around your wrists, too. You could then see that the pendants were actually lockets, each one about the size of a pocket watch. Crowley opened each one before closing them again. One locket was empty, but the other had some kind of coin or something in it which you couldn’t see clearly before Crowley had closed it, again. As he put the filled locket in Rowena’s hands, she began to whimper, her eyes wide and filled with rage.

“Hold it, Mother. Tightly.” He smiled as he placed the other locket in your hands, closing your fingers around them. Your eyes were glued to Rowena as she struggled, but she couldn’t say a word or drop the locket, though she seemed to try. Crowley just gave you his reassuring smile, and you remembered that he wanted you to keep an open mind, and welcome whatever was happening. So, whatever he was doing, you would welcome it. Your trusting gaze seemed to please Crowley, and he began to chant.

“ _Plenum et vacuum, replendum vacuum, potestas et scientia, ingenio et gratia._ ” _(Empty the full and fill the empty, power and knowledge, talent and grace.)_

Behind you, you heard scuffles and grunts, but you couldn’t pay them any mind because an almost blinding energy was leaving Rowena and entering you. Power and light energized your body while your mind swirled with images and sounds. Crowley was still chanting next to you, but you could barely hear him for the flood of information that was overtaking you. Images of texts with spells flitted before your mind while those same spells were spoken in your mind as if you’d learned them in school. While your brain felt like it was watching a movie about witchcraft on fast forward, your insides were burning and cooling, burning and cooling, as the energy from Rowena remade you into something new.

As suddenly as it began, it was over, and you were standing before Crowley and Rowena, feeling like you could take on the world and bring it to its knees. Rowena fainted, only staying upright because of the demons holding her. As you tried to take stock of everything you were feeling, and all the knowledge that was now swimming in your brain, you heard a voice behind you.

 _“What did you do to her???”_ Dean bellowed. Looking behind you, Dean and Sam were holding John back.

“Nothing for you to worry about, Squirrel. She’s perfectly fine.” Without a hint of concern, Crowley opened the locket that was in your hands and smiled when he saw it was no longer empty, the coin from the other locket having shifted. He unwrapped the chain from around your wrists, did the same to Rowena’s wrists, then carefully placed the necklace back into the box. Another murmur in Gaelic and the box snapped shut.

You felt like you should do something, or say something, but your mind was still a jumble. The only clear thought you could pick out was Crowley telling you to tell Dean that you were okay, and he shouldn’t worry.

“Dean, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” you said, trying to give Dean your most reassuring smile while still feeling a little overwhelmed. “I told you Crowley would never hurt me, and he hasn’t. In fact, I feel good. A little shaky, but good.”

You turned to Crowley with a smile and was rewarded with a proud smile in return. You had pleased Crowley. Good.

The Winchesters stared at everyone in the room, from you, to Crowley, to the demon still holding Rowena’s limp form. “Then what did you do to Rowena? She’s sure as shit not fine!” Dean said, waving at the unconscious witch.

“Oh,” Crowley said with a dismissive wave, “I merely took everything from her that makes her a witch and gave it to Y/N. I’m sure she’ll wake up soon enough. In fact, Franklin, why don’t you deposit the ginger bitch somewhere outside where she won’t raise alarms when she wakes up. Somewhere remote, maybe in a forest, where no one will hear her scream.”

Franklin nodded and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Crowley offered you his arm, and you took it, grateful for the support. The initial rush was fading, and you felt like sleeping for a year and a half. The Winchesters still needed to be handled, though, so you both faced them, arm in arm.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything Crowley has done becomes clear.

A painful tugging in your heart almost made you double over in pain as you looked at the Winchesters, but it was covered over by Crowley.

“You’re doing so well, my dear. Come, love, tell the Winchesters all about the fun you’ve been having since you got here.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of Crowley’s demons approaching the Winchesters, angel blade in hand. There was no thought involved, only instinct, when you waved an arm at the demon and commanded, “ _Manete!_ ”

Everyone turned to look at the demon, which was now frozen to the spot. Nervous that you’d done something wrong, you looked at Crowley, but he gave you a proud smile, sending another rush of warmth through you. The Winchesters, however, were not as pleased.

“Y/N! What did you do?” Sam said, his voice wavering as he stared at you.

Still fighting exhaustion, you stood as squarely as you could, leveling your gaze. “Defended your life. The same as I’ve done since you were a baby, Sam.”

“You never did it like that,” John said, his eyes accusing and his face disgusted. “What are you, now? A witch?”

You looked at Crowley for confirmation, and he patted the hand you had resting on his arm. “As a matter of fact, yes, she is,” Crowley stated, proudly, looking at you with an affectionate smile. “All the power, knowledge, talent, and grace that my mother used to have now resides in Y/N. What you see before you is the most powerful witch I’ve seen in a century, without the conniving, scheming, hateful personality of that ginger whore. With a little practice, I believe she’ll be even more powerful than Rowena ever was.” Crowley turned back to face the Winchesters with a smug smile, holding your left hand with his so the diamonds in your rings sparkled. “And she’s mine.”

At that, all three Winchesters prepared to attack. Crowley’s grip on you tightened, and he whispered, “Protect me.”

 _“Manete.”_ With another wave of your hand, you froze the Winchesters where they stood. A pain in your chest stole your breath away for a moment, but when you clutched your chest and touched the pendant that was hanging there, it faded. All three men struggled to move in their places, grunting and cursing, eyes wild. “Dean, Sam, John, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice more even than you expected. _“Exite,”_ you commanded with another wave, and the three men disappeared.

Crowley turned to you with a happy gleam in his eye. “Where did you send them, my dear?”

“Out to their car.” Your breathing got worse, the weight on your chest almost suffocating you. “They’ll leave now that they know what I am. They won’t want me anymore.” Unbidden tears welled up in your eyes until Crowley cupped your face and made you focus on him.

“You did well, my darling. They don’t understand, but that’s okay, because we have each other, now.” As usual, Crowley’s smile helped to soothe the ache in your chest, and the tears dried before they fell. He let his hands drop and embraced you, instead. “They’ll be fine, you know. They have a whole bunker full of people to support them and take care of them. They don’t need you the way I do, especially now. Even if they did still need you, they wouldn’t want a witch in their midst. You saw John. He doesn’t understand your new gift. And it is a gift, Y/N. You are a gift, and I couldn’t be happier you’re here with me.”

Crowley’s words comforted you, and another wave of exhaustion flowed through you. Your knees almost buckled, but Crowley caught you, helping you to stay on your feet.

“Now, release Leonard over there and let’s get you into bed so you can sleep.”

Another wave at the frozen demon in the doorway, _“Ad normalis,”_ and you passed out in Crowley’s arms.

When you woke up, you were in your bed, again in the silk pajamas. Out of habit, you reached for your phone, only to see it was shut off. When you remembered why, the ache in your chest returned. With trembling fingers, you turned the phone back on and waited for it to start up.

_17 new voicemails._

_28 new text messages._

Your fingers still shaking, you pressed the voicemail icon and started playing your messages.

> Dean – _“Y/N! Come on! Answer your phone! I can tell something’s wrong! Son of a bitch!”_
> 
> Sam – _“Bigs? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Why are you with Crowley? Has he done something to you? Please call us back. We’re worried.”_
> 
> Dean – _“Bigs, please, pick up, dammit!”_
> 
> John – pause, click
> 
> Dean – _“God, if Crowley’s done something to you, I fucking swear…”_
> 
> Sam – _“Y/N, please, call us back. We do need you. We’ve always needed you. We will always need you, no matter who else is in our lives. God, Bigs,”_ the sound of a heavy sigh, _“just please come back.”_
> 
> John – pause, click
> 
> Bobby – _“I don’t know what’s goin’ on in that fool head o’ yours to make you act like this, you idjit, but you better fix yourself and get back here before those boys tear up the world lookin’ for ya.”_ Long pause. _“Ya got me worried, kid. Ellen, too, though she’s tryin’ to hide it by cookin’ up a storm. Just call me, wouldja?”_
> 
> Sam – pause, click
> 
> John – click
> 
> John – _“You can’t… I just… The boys need you. They need you so much. They’re half out of their minds right now, and I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t fix it. Only you can fix it. Please answer your damn phone and just fucking come home.”_
> 
> Dean – “ _I know you, and this isn’t you. So, Crowley, if you’re listening to this, know that I am coming for you, and if you hurt her, I will tear you into pieces so small they’ll find Hoffa first. I don’t know what you’ve done, but I will get her back and I will fix it, if it’s the last goddamn thing I do.”_

The rest of the voicemails were hang-ups, mostly from John, but a couple from Dean and Sam. The text messages were more of the same, with some from Charlie and Jo, too.

When all the messages were cleared, you set the phone back on your nightstand and lay back down on the bed, staring at the phone from your pillow. While you were lying there, letting everything that had happened over the past couple of days process in your mind, another text message came in.

> Sam – _I know Crowley’s got you under some kind of spell. You would never leave us like this. We’re not leaving until we figure it out. You know where we are if you need us._
> 
> You – _I’m fine. Crowley would never hurt me. Deep down, I think he just wants a mom who doesn’t want to kill him. I can help him. You have a legion of family back at the bunker. You don’t need me. Besides, now that I’m a witch, you won’t want me, anyway. I think I can do good with this gift, but I doubt John or Dean want anything to do with me, now._
> 
> Sam – _You’re wrong. We will always want you. We will always need you. You’re family._

You turned the phone off and put it down, not wanting to torture yourself further. You couldn’t be both with the Winchesters and with Crowley, and you just couldn’t leave Crowley.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley takes you to Hell.

After putting away your phone, you got dressed for the day and met Crowley at the breakfast table. Although he was cordial and polite to you, you could tell something was bothering him.

“I can tell something’s wrong, so out with it, My King. I mean, that’s why I’m here, right?”

Crowley sighed and considered your request for a moment. “Fine. I didn’t want to trouble you so soon after last night, but something has been brewing, and I really ought to stomp it out before it gets any bigger.” He shooed the serving demons out of the room and waited until the door clicked shut before he continued. “A while back, Dean and Sam exorcised a demon named Jael. Apparently, he crashed a hunter’s wake and killed two before he was sent back to Hell. He’d been topside for a while, so he was surprised when he came back to find me in charge again. He is a Lucifer supporter who particularly enjoyed watching me grovel.”

Not knowing exactly what Lucifer had done to Crowley, but having a good guess, you reached out a comforting hand. “Well, then he’s just out of luck, because Lucifer is locked away, and only Chuck can free him, now. He’s just going to have to get used to you being his king, again.”

Crowley’s smile was heartfelt, but weak. “I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately, he doesn’t agree. Even worse, he’s not alone. There’s a large contingency of demons that merely put up with me now that they’ve seen me brought low by Lucifer. They would support another candidate for the throne if one arose, and Jael is making noises about taking a run at me.”

You tried to fathom the politics of demons and Hell and failed. “I have to say, I can’t imagine what your average demon wants out of a king, so I have no advice on how to win hearts and minds.”

Crowley sighed. “Demons only respond to power. When Lucifer was in charge, I was no longer the most powerful, and it reminded everyone of my humble beginnings. I’m not as old as Jael, so without the throne, he’s essentially more powerful. In order to quell the uprising, I need to prove that I’m more powerful than he is.”

“Well, objectively, you’ve recently done some good work, if you think about it. You led the demon army that helped to defeat Amara. You disposed of Rowena, and now have a hunter witch by your side. Count me into the equation, and I think you’ve got more than enough power on your side.”

Crowley’s smile was wide as you presented your argument. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, my dear. I hate to drag you into this, though. This is my fight, not yours.”

“I’m here to help you, and if it means I get to take out a couple of demons, I’m all in, Your Highness.” You rubbed your hands together eagerly. “So, what’s the plan?”

 

An hour later, the plan was set, and you and Crowley were heading into Hell with a couple of loyalists behind you. In all of your pockets were various weapons, from hex bags to powders, including your flask of holy water. You were prepared for the things Crowley was going to have to say about you, and the way you were going to have to act to pull this off. In spite of all of the preparation, though, you were still nervous.

The four of you finally came to an open balcony which looked out over the pits of Hell. The view was vast and frightening. The heat was intense, but so dry that any sweat that formed on your skin immediately evaporated. Everything seemed to be either red or black from fire or blood. Even the light cast a dark red glow on Crowley’s skin. The view from the edge of the balcony horrified you, but you did your best to reign in your physical response. Everywhere you looked, there were souls being tortured. Some souls were brighter than others, looking like beacons in a stormy sea. Others were nearly as dark as the demons working over them. The screams echoed through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. Heated air that reeked of sulfur, blood, and decay gently moved your hair. You pictured John, Dean, and Sam all spending time here, and had to take deep breaths through your mouth to avoid vomiting on the spot.

Crowley took your hand and pulled you away from the edge so less of what was happening was visible to you. He left you by the entrance you’d come through before returning to the edge and addressing all of Hell.

Crowley bellowed, and his voice traveled throughout every jail cell and torture chamber.

“This is your King! Let all who would oppose me stand before me and take their shot, starting with Jael!”

Screams halted as every demon stopped their work to focus on the balcony. Time seemed to drag on as gasps and moans of pain reduced to whimpers and nearly silent sobs. Soon, you could almost call it quiet, apart from the occasional sounds of nervous shuffling, most of which were coming from you.

Scuffling and complaints were soon heard coming from the entrance to the balcony. Jael was held by two other demons, though that didn’t seem to stop him from mouthing off and making jokes. The two demons dragged him until he stood in front of Crowley at the edge of the balcony for all to see. You were surprised to see that a vessel-less demon still looked human, but you guessed that Hell had its ways of making everyone easier to torture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Lucky the Leprechaun. I’m surprised to see you down here after the way Lucifer made you his bitch,” he laughed derisively, “literally.”

The hush that had fallen before suddenly seemed to get heavier, somehow. You were sure that every word spoke on the balcony could now be heard throughout all of Hell.

Crowley stepped up to Jael and flicked a bit of dirt off of the lesser demon’s shoulder. “Lucifer is locked away in his kennel where he belongs, left to live out his days in a Mark-induced, bloodthirsty rage that will never be satiated. Be careful, Jael, or I’ll throw you in with him.”

Jael lifted his head, thrusting his chin out. “I thought you brought me up here for a fair fight, not to throw around empty threats. You don’t have the power to hurt me any more than any other demon in Hell. You’re just a puppet in a suit.”

Crowley chuckled. “Is that so? Well, this puppet is the King of Hell, and now has control over the most powerful witch that remains after Amara snuffed them all.” He beckoned to you, and you walked over to his side, your eyes lowered as a sign of submission.

Jael laughed. “Witch? Try hunter, you idiot. That’s the Winchesters’ bitch.”

Crowley caressed your face and sighed. “Yes, she was. But now she’s the vessel for all of my mother’s power and knowledge. She can do anything that ginger whore could do, without the objectionable personality quirks.” He turned back toward to Jael. “And she’s mine.”

Jael looked back and forth between you and Crowley, trying to judge the truth of the situation. Doubts still clouded his mind, but he definitely looked nervous.

Crowley nudged your arm. “My dear, why don’t you give Jael a taste of what you can do?”

You lifted your head and leveled your gaze on the nervous demon. “Why don’t I just kill him for opposing you?” With a wave of your hand, you said, _“Segniter Incendiarum.”_

Jael started to glow from the inside, heat melting the very core of his demon self. He cried out and tried to double over, but the two demons holding him didn’t let him go.

“Now, pet, I said a taste. Don’t kill him until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

You huffed angrily but gave another wave of your hand. _“Ad normalis.”_

Jael regained his footing but was huffing and puffing as he recovered.

With a huff of derision, you turned to Crowley. “My King, I don’t know why you bother with him. He was completely disabled by a little heartburn. How could he possibly be a threat to you?”

Crowley looked straight at Jael. “You know, you may be right, my pet. Maybe all of this commotion I’ve been hearing about really is nothing. I came down here to quell an uprising, but all I’ve found is a whiny child.” He turned towards the edge of the balcony, resting his hands on the railing and looking out over all of Hell. “Let this be a lesson to you all. I am your King, and you survive at my pleasure.”

Crowley turned to you and quietly said, “Kill him.”

Giving Crowley your most gleeful smile, you waved at Jael once more. _“Incendiarum!”_

Jael immediately burst into flames and turned to ash, much the way ghosts do when you burn their bones.

Crowley turned back to look out over his kingdom. “Unless there are others who wish to step up and take a shot? Another ambitious agitator who thinks they can do a better job than I have? Well?”

The silence was deafening.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think you're done in Hell, there's more.

The quiet after Jael’s defeat didn’t last long. Soon, you heard a rumbling noise gathering from below the balcony, the vibrations shaking the floor below your feet. Looking out, you saw the dark shapes of demons racing toward the balcony before they disappeared below it. The rumbling grew louder, and the vibrations grew stronger as a group of demons thundered up the stairs. You moved to Crowley’s side as demons flooded the balcony, at least twenty of them filling the area and pushing you to the edge. As you raised your hands to strike at the group, one demon pushed his way to the front and made it clear he was their leader. He was tall and blonde, with long hair that almost reminded you of Sam. A pang in your gut followed the thought but was forgotten as the demon approached you.

“Attack as many as you want, witch, but you can’t take on all of us, and whoever’s left standing will kill you slow.” He turned to Crowley and smirked. “It was really stupid of you to come here, Crowley. I mean, this is where you send those of us who don’t follow your pathetic rules, yet you deliver yourself up to us, wrapped with a shiny witch for a bow like it’s Christmas or something.”

“Silas.” Crowley almost chuckled, wrapping a protective arm around you. “I should have killed you the last time instead of giving you a chance to redeem yourself. So, you really think you can run Hell better than I could?”

“You’re nothing but a lap dog, Crowley. First, for Lilith, then the angel, Castiel, then the Winchesters, then Lucifer, and now you’re panting after the Winchesters’ bitch. It’s about time Hell had a leader with some bite.” Silas bit at the air in front of Crowley, startling you, but Crowley didn’t budge. You pressed yourself into Crowley’s side, looking at the crowd standing between you and the exit nervously.

“Oh really? And what do you plan to do, now that you’ve so obviously outnumbered us and taken control?”

Silas approached you, running a finger down your cheek and making you flinch. “I say we kill two dogs with one blade. Let’s see how desperate the Winchesters are to get back their little babysitter. Use you as bait, kill you all, and then see about expanding Hell a little bit. I hear Canada is nice this time of year. Not to mention, we’ve got some devil’s gates to open. Hell seriously needs an airing out, don’t you think?”

He tried to rip you from Crowley’s grip, but you growled out, _“Abite!”_ The demon was pushed back into the crowd just enough for you regain your balance. “You’ll not separate us, or I’ll make your life so difficult you’ll have to kill me, and then who will be your bait? Keep us together, and we’ll cooperate. You keep us both, or you kill us both. Your choice.”

Silas growled. “Fine. You stay together.”

You and Crowley were kept together as the group surrounded you and slowly pushed you to the exit. Every weapon you had on you was removed, along with all spell ingredients. Your hands were bound behind your back and you were led down into the pits of Hell to one of the cells, where you and Crowley were locked away. Silas waved his hand over where the cell door met the wall, and the metal burned hot until the door was sealed to the wall. There would be no picking the lock for you.

You hadn’t been in the cell for long when the screams of the tortured started back up again. You listened to it for about an hour before you turned to Crowley and grimaced. “Are you completely sure of this plan?”

Crowley smiled as you got out of your bindings and rubbed your wrists. “As long as I’m alive, I’m still the king. Even when Lucifer was in charge, I still had the powers of the king. He was just stronger. This will work, my dear. We just have to be patient.” Crowley sat down on the floor, grimacing at getting his suit dirty, but invited you to sit next to him. “Now, we’re going to be here for a while because of how time flows differently down here. What takes an hour topside will feel like 5 days, here, so we have plenty of spare time. Why don’t we work on getting you more comfortable with your new gift?”

It was almost a week before Silas returned for you and Crowley. Even though you weren’t physically tortured, listening to the screams of the damned grated on your soul. To tune it out, you talked with Crowley, you sang songs, and you practiced your magic. Near the end of day two, you were dreaming of one of Dean’s double bacon cheeseburgers with extra onions, even though you weren’t technically hungry. By day four, you’d practiced all of the spells you could think of off the top of your head that wouldn’t actually bust you out or cause damage. Every so often, one of Silas’s henchmen would stand by your cell door and talk loudly about their plans for after you, Crowley, and the Winchesters were gone. Some of their ideas made you shudder. Opening Hell gates was just the beginning for some of them. Each time they would leave, Crowley would grouse about how what they were planning would backfire, even if they did manage to get rid of the Winchesters and the two of you. By day six, you knew more about the awful grandiose plans of demons than you’d ever wanted to know. By the time Silas came back, you were so disgusted that all you really wanted was a shower and your bed. You were thankful they hadn’t decided to add your screams to the never-ending chorus, but you were still ready for a change.

Another wave of Silas’s hand and the cell door was opened. Demons dragged you and Crowley out of Hell and back through the asylum, eventually driving you to an abandoned warehouse. The two of you were bound to chairs in the middle of the room, with guards placed at each exit. The Winchesters didn’t make you wait for very long, which made you smile. Silas’s demons pretended to put up a good fight, while actually drawing the Winchesters into the warehouse with you. Dean was the first to set eyes on you, and his whole body relaxed when he saw you were unharmed.

Soon, all three Winchesters were in the room with you, Dean and Sam untying you and Crowley while John looked out for more demons. As Dean looked you over, he patted you down to check for injuries.

“Are you okay, Bigs? We were so worried when that douchebag contacted us.”

You cupped Dean’s face in your hands and held it close to yours, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Dean. It’s a trap. It might not look like it, but Crowley and I have a plan, and you guys were just a part of it. Whatever happens in the next few minutes, know that it will all be okay, all right?”

Dean pulled his head from your hands, looking at you with alarm, his eyes wide and confused. He didn’t have long to wonder, though, because Silas’s men were soon surrounding the group of you.

Silas chuckled as he approached your little group, cocky to the last. “Finally, you’re all together, again. And now, you can all die together, too.”

The Winchesters all raised their weapons as the demons attacked. You waved both of your arms and pushed outward toward the line of attackers with all that you had, yelling, _“Abite!”_ At least half of the demons fell back, so you turned to the rest and screamed, _“Incendiarum!”_ Three demons burst into flame, sending ash flying everywhere. You waved at some more and froze them in their spot, then gesturing to the Winchesters to finish them off. Crowley was tossing demons around on his side of the battle, lending the sound of cracking skulls to the general air of the battle.

Silas, being the strongest of them all, fought through your spells until he had a hold of you. Only a handful of his followers remained, and he knew he would lose if he didn’t stop the battle quickly.

“Get back or I’ll kill her!” he screamed, getting the attention of the Winchesters and Crowley. A spike of fear shot through you. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Crowley and the Winchesters all froze as they looked at you and the knife Silas was pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Now, drop your weapons, or she dies.”

The Winchesters all dropped their weapons, but Crowley started slow clapping.

“Bravo, Silas! You really outdid yourself today!” Crowley approached where Silas was holding you, an almost proud look on his face. “I would like to thank you for organizing all those who opposed me so that they could all be here, in one place. I really couldn’t have flushed them all out without you.”

“What are you talking about? Stay back, or she dies, Crowley!”

Crowley stopped walking towards you but looked around at all the demons in the room before addressing Silas again. “So, this is everyone, right?”

You felt Silas nod his head behind you, completely confused by Crowley’s calm demeanor.

“Good,” Crowley said. He lifted both of his hands, snapping his fingers, and every other demon in the room disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The knife that was at your neck fell to the floor, along with all of the other weapons the demons had been holding. The Winchesters looked stupefied, but you ran to Crowley and threw your arms around his neck, whooping with joy.

“We did it!! We got them all, Crowley!!”

Crowley hugged you closely. “Yes, my dear, we did.”

You broke away from him and went over to the Winchesters, giving them each a warm hug. “And we couldn’t have done it without you guys. I’m sorry we had to worry you that way, but it was the only way to draw them all out.”

John and Sam were quiet, their eyes wide and their arms unresponsive when you hugged them. Dean was the only one who moved, holding you in front of him with his hands on your upper arms.

“You mean, you used us as bait? To what, win a war?” The anger was rolling off of Dean in waves.

Your eyes fell. “I’m sorry, Dean. There was no way to keep you out of it. As long as I was involved, we knew they’d bring you into it. All we could do was try to protect you as much as we could when the time came.”

Dean was still furious, so you looked at John, and then Sam. John stormed out, but Sam was standing there, holding his arm, blood seeping out through his fingers, his eyes wide as he stared at you.

Pulling yourself out of Dean’s hold, you approached Sam. “Hey, Smalls, hold still for me, would ya?” You looked into his eyes and saw a host of emotions you’d never wanted to see from any Winchester: fear, disbelief, and shock. Sighing, you put your hands over his arm and chanted quietly, _“Mahday, eelohtah sahn. Serloh, eelohtah.”_ Warmth moved between your hands and Sam’s arm, and you saw the bleeding stop. Carefully, you pulled Sam’s hand away from the gash, checking to make sure it had closed as you had intended. The two sides of the cut had stitched together, leaving only a thin scar. Smiling sadly, you looked up at Sam again. “Is that it? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Sam looked at his arm, saw the thin, red scar and looked at you in astonishment. He wiped his bloody hand on his shirt and sighed. “No, I’m okay. That was it.”

Dean grunted and stormed out, leaving just Sam standing in front of you, shifting nervously.

“Will you come home with us, now, Bigs? We miss you.” He put on his best puppy eyes, and they nearly melted your heart.

With a deep sigh that tried to ease the pain in your chest, you looked at the door where John and Dean had disappeared, then looked at Crowley. You knew Crowley wanted you by his side, and you knew you had to go with him to make him happy. The pain in your chest was ripping you apart, but you couldn’t stop it.

“I have to go with Crowley, Sam. Besides, I bet John and Dean really don’t want me around, anymore. They probably had their doubts before this, but now, I’m pretty sure they’re packing the car to head back to Kansas as we speak.” Your lungs seemed to collapse and breathing became almost impossible. Wheezing breaths were all you could manage as Sam grabbed your arms to hold you up, not knowing what was happening.

Before you could completely fall apart, Crowley pulled you to him, so you were looking into his eyes. “You did so well, today, my dear. You should be proud of yourself. You’ve mastered in a week what Rowena took centuries to learn. I’m so proud of you.”

The familiar warmth that you always felt when Crowley smiled at you crept into your lungs and opened them up, enabling you to breathe again. As the oxygen flowed through your system, your strength returned. You nodded at Crowley and returned his smile.

“Thank you, Crowley. I’m glad I was able to make you happy.”

Crowley pushed a lock of your hair out of your face. “You did, love. You made me very happy. Now, say goodbye to Sam, and I’ll take you home, so you can get cleaned up. I think another spa day is in order, don’t you?”

You giggled. “After a week in a cage in Hell? I’d be happy with a shower and a bed right now!” You flashed Sam your brightest smile, now that the pain in your chest was gone and you were breathing easy again. “I’ve got to go, Sam, but maybe we can talk or something later?”

Sam nodded dumbly, his eyes wide as he looked at you. Crowley offered you his arm and you took it, smiling when he placed his hand over yours and patted it. With a blink, you were back in your rooms in the asylum, your pajamas already laid out on the bed.

“I’m going to go fix whatever Silas broke while we were gone, but you feel free to clean up, or eat, or rest. I’ll make sure one of your maids comes in to check on you in a few minutes in case you need anything, okay?”

You gave Crowley a smile and he kissed your cheek before he left you alone. With a heavy sigh, you sat on the bed, niggling thoughts about the pain you had felt worrying the back of your mind. Deciding you were too tired to think about it right then, you started getting out of your dirty clothes, making sure to keep the beautiful necklace Crowley had given you around your neck where it belonged.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything calms down and you get some time to think.

The maid came and checked in with you, but you told her you were fine, and she could go. Once you were on your own, you filled the bath, using the delicious-smelling bath salts and bubble bath Crowley had provided for you. A long, hot soak sounded like just the thing to make you feel better.

Once you were in the bath, your mind began to stray. You went over everything that had happened since you had arrived and wondered what the future might hold. Different spells flitted through your thoughts, and you tested out one that reheated the water quite nicely. The bubbles were fading, though, and as you tried to create some more, your eye was attracted to the pendant hanging from your neck.

It was quite large, actually. A bit heavy, too. The mysterious green stone was basically rectangular, with the silver setting making notches in each corner. You fiddled with the pendant and the chain, flipping the pendant around and scrubbing some dirt off of it. The day Crowley gave it you popped into your mind, and you went over your entire conversation.

_“Crowley, I don’t stay with the Winchesters because of what they can give me. I stay because they’re my family. And they do give me so much that you can’t see. Borrowed or not, they’re mine, and I can’t leave them.”_

_Crowley sighed with a frown. “I thought you might say that.”_

_With one hand, he reached into his pocket, while his other hand took one of yours. He pulled out a long necklace with a beautiful charm on the end and pressed the pendant into your palm._

_“Audite me, sequi me, placere me, intellege me, ama me.”_

Huh. You stared at the pendant, the wet facets of the stone reflecting more light than usual and creating spots of light on the walls. It was a spell. A spell so you would go with Crowley, follow him, obey him, love him.

Your eyes fell to the rings on your left hand.

_“The rings are trackers, so I can find you if there’s trouble. They’re also communicators. You’ll be able to hear each other, and I’ll be able to hear you outside.”_

So, he was also spying on you to make sure you were still under his spell. You idly wondered what the earrings were for.

The water was getting cold again, so you decided to get out of the bath. As you dried yourself, your mind worked to decide how you felt about what Crowley had done. By the time you were in your robe, you knew that you wouldn’t be sure how you felt about it until you removed the pendant, and therefore the spell.

You’d have to be careful, though. You couldn’t be sure how the rings worked. Could he only hear what you said, or could he hear ambient noise, too?

Pain lanced through your chest. Your mind tried to skitter away from the thoughts of removing the jewelry, but you forced yourself to think it through in spite of the discomfort.

With great difficulty, you stifled your groans of pain as you forced yourself to remove the pendant. When the chain was no longer around your neck, you felt the pain ease. You laid the necklace on the bed, and the pain eased as you walked away from it. When you were deep in your closet, at the farthest point in your room you could be from the necklace, all the repressed emotions the spell had pushed down tried to erupt.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to sob and wail, but you couldn’t make a sound. Crowley would hear, and he would know. Closing the door to the closet, you held the soft, terry fabric of your robe to your mouth, dampening any sound that might escape. Looking around frantically, you finally found a fur stole. You gently removed the rings, and the earrings for good measure, wrapping them inside the huge stole, then sitting on it. Once you were sure Crowley couldn’t hear anything, you sobbed.

What had you done to the Winchesters? What had you done to yourself? You were a witch, now, and not just any witch. Crowley had called you the greatest witch alive, since Amara had blown away the others. Was that the truth, or was he just blowing smoke for Silas? And now that you were a powerful witch, would the Winchesters ever take you back? Could they ever forgive you for leaving them? For using them as bait for demons? For picking Crowley over them? You refused to even think about John’s reaction. It was just too painful.

When your tears had finally stopped, you wiped your face and took a deep breath to center yourself. You had to come up with a plan. You had to contact Sam before it was too late. You had to take stock of what weapons you had and get yourself away from Crowley.

You left the closet, and immediately felt the pull of the necklace. It wanted you to wear it. It wanted you to hold it, or even just touch it. Grabbing a cashmere sweater from the closet, you carefully wrapped the necklace in the sweater, making sure not to touch it. Once it was wrapped, you stuffed it into the stole with the rings and earrings, then ran from the closet, only stopping to grab some clothes to wear before carefully shutting the door behind you.

Throwing your clothes on, you dug your phone out of your drawer and turned it on, grateful it still had a charge left to it. More messages pinged as the phone began to work, but you ignored them. Sam had sent you messages, but you scrolled past them until you could tap out your SOS.

And then you stared at the blinking cursor.

What could you possibly say? You were sorry? You knew you had put them in danger, but you hoped they could forgive you and help you, anyway? Another sob threatened to escape you, and you pushed it down.

Your phone vibrated in your hand, and the screen shifted.

> Sam – _I don’t care what you are, now, or what you’ve done. You’ve always been there for me, and I will always be there for you. Please come home, Bigs._

Quiet tears streamed down your face.

> You – _Crowley had me under a spell. I think I’ve broken it. I want to come home, but I don’t know how. I’m a witch, now, and what I’ve done is unforgivable. I’ve become what we’ve hunted all our lives. Even if I can get free of Crowley, how could you live with me, knowing what I am?_
> 
> Sam – _I forgive you. Tell me what you need to get free and I’ll do it._

You wiped the tears from your face and smiled at your phone. Maybe you’d be alright, after all.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You deal with Crowley.

You clutched your phone while you tried to gather your thoughts. How could you get away from Crowley safely? Your phone buzzed again.

> Sam – _Dean wants to just bust in and get you out._

You couldn’t help the smile that formed when you read the message. Picturing the Winchesters storming in like they had before, guns blazing, it seemed like a decent idea. Them taking out every demon in their path; you decimating anyone who got in your way. It was attractive.

But then Crowley would lose his throne, if not his life, and Hell would fall under the rule of… well… who knew what demon would rise to power next? And what plans would they have to kill the Winchesters, open Hell gates, turn Earth into Hell’s beachfront vacation home?

_“What most demons don’t realize, love, is that a successful Hell won’t come from waging a loud and brash war on humanity,” Crowley said. “There’s an old adage that’s so true. ‘The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’ If the world believes in Hell and damnation, people will flock to God and goodness to avoid it. There will always be those who still stray, some in the name of the good they chase, but most will do their best to escape the fire. Now, let the world think there is no fire, and it’s much easier to slowly sway the penitent from their path.”_

Crowley’s way might be eviler in the end, but it was less bloody and killed fewer innocents. Crowley was the least of all the evils. You had to make sure he kept the throne. To do that, you’d have to leave quietly.

> You – _No busting in if we can avoid it. I’ll explain later, but I need to leave quietly, if I can. Besides, I’ve already endangered you boys enough for one day. I’ll get out on my own. If you don’t hear from me by this time tomorrow, then bust in._

You put your phone on silent and slipped it into your pocket. Sitting on your bed, you went over your options in your head. Once you had what you hoped was a viable plan, you set everything up and walked to the throne room.

As you expected, the room was filled with demons. Some were waiting for their audience with the King, some were his clerks and guards who were always there. Everyone made way for you as you entered, leaving you a pathway to the throne. When he saw you, Crowley smiled, and you returned his smile, noticing for the first time how his eyes landed on the pendant hanging from your neck, then skipped to the rings on your left hand. His eyes met yours again as his smile widened.

When you reached him, he motioned for everyone else to leave, but you stopped him.

“No, Crowley, I’d love to watch you rule for a bit. Maybe I can sit here and listen until it’s time for dinner?”

“Of course, my pet.” Crowley kissed the back of your hand and continued holding it, even after you sat down in the smaller chair next to him.

During one of your Hell chats, Crowley had told you about how Rowena had listened to court business and given her advice. You tried to do the same, though kept your voice quiet so only Crowley could hear you. This way, he could pretend to disagree with you and ignore your opinion, even if that wasn’t the case. Crowley seemed especially pleased when you suggested a harsh punishment for one of the demons that had come to whine about something even you thought was stupid. For you, the way Crowley was smiling just meant that he was buying everything you were selling.

When your stomach audibly growled, Crowley announced a break and offered you his arm as he led you to the dining room. Once the first course was on the table, you couldn’t wait any longer.

Nodding towards the maids and guards that hovered at the doorways, you looked at Crowley. “I would like to discuss something without an audience. Is that possible?”

Crowley’s smile was indulgent as he waved everyone out of the room and the doors all closed. “Whatever you wish, my dear. What’s on your mind?”

Putting down your soup spoon, you momentarily mourned the loss of Crowley’s kitchen, then began by removing the necklace and placing it on the table.

“Ah,” said Crowley, wiping his mouth with his napkin and setting it aside. “I see.” His eyes narrowed as he tried to anticipate what you were going to do next.

“I’m not sure you do, Crowley.” With a quick tug, you removed the rings and then worked on the earrings. “I removed the spell on the necklace and earrings, though I never did figure out what the earrings did.” You pushed all of the jewelry across the table to Crowley, keeping an eye on him to try and judge his next move.

“They were alerting me if you had any spikes in heart rate or blood pressure. Just a way to know if you were upset or in danger. Now, they’re just an old luck charm.” He fingered the stones in the earrings for a moment. “If you broke the spell, then why are you still here? Why sit through two hours of mind-numbing court business? Why not call Moose and Squirrel to come here and bust you out?”

“They wanted to, but I told them not to. If nothing else, I’ve learned one thing while I was here. Crowley, you’re the best king of Hell possible. With you, the battle of Good vs. Evil is a chess game, not a UFC match, and I believe that’s the way it should be. If the Winchesters busted in here, they’d kill some demons, they’d make a big scene, and everyone would know that you’d lost control of the woman you yourself called ‘the most powerful witch left in the world.’ You’d be right back where you started. Maybe Silas and Jael are gone, but there will always be another to take their place as long as they sense weakness.”

Crowley’s face revealed nothing as he studied you and listened. You could only hope he was appreciating everything you were saying.

“I don’t want you deposed, Crowley. I don’t want you dead. Yes, I’m angry at what you’ve done to me, and yes, I’m leaving, but I’d rather leave quietly, with things as they are.”

Crowley picked up his soup spoon and stirred his soup for a moment while you held your breath. “Why don’t we at least enjoy our meal while we discuss terms?”


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're back with your boys.

Two hours after finishing a lovely dinner with Crowley, during which you hammered out an agreement that suited both sides, you were standing in front of a motel door, hoping the Winchesters would take you back. Your heart raced while you gathered the courage to knock. When your hand finally hit the wooden door, your knees threatened to give out, but you steeled yourself and stood firm.

The door swung open and Dean threw his arms around you before you could even say hello. “Holy shit, Y/N, you had us worried.”

Crushed by his embrace, you finally let loose all of the emotions that had been threatening to escape since you’d broken the spell so many hours ago. Sobs wracked your body as you dampened Dean’s shirt. He carefully walked you into the room, never letting you go, not that you could have let him go if you tried. After the door clicked shut, you felt more warmth at your back.

“We thought we lost you there for a while, Bigs,” Sam murmured, his hands rubbing your shoulders. When you finally let go of Dean, Sam pulled you into his arms, and you cried into his shirt, too. Sam moved you over to one of the beds and sat you down, wiping your tears away when you finally removed your face from his shirt.

“Damn, it feels good to be myself, to be here with you boys, even though we’re in a stinky motel room and the beds probably suck.” Your eyes moved around the room but didn’t find who you were looking for. “Where’s John?” you asked, your voice strangled by fear.

“He’s in another room, watching Rowena.” Dean grabbed three beers from the fridge and handed one to you and one to Sam before opening his own.

“Rowena??” Your back straightened and your grip on the bottle tightened until your knuckles turned white.

Sam ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. She found us after we got back from saving you and Crowley.” One of his famous bitch faces flashed at the idea of them saving you and Crowley, but he moved on. “She’s in really bad shape. She was willing to eat whatever we fed her, and then she passed out like she hadn’t slept in weeks. She’s got huge memory issues, too. She says she remembers doing things but doesn’t remember how she did them. It’s got her seriously messed up.”

You felt heat flood your face. “Yeah, that’s partly my fault. The spell Crowley did, everything she’s missing, I have, now. Crowley wanted control of her power, in a vessel that didn’t hate him.”

Dean put down his beer and waved his arms in excitement with a wide grin. “Well, then, we just need to switch it all back and we’ll be golden! What do we need to do?” The excitement in Dean’s eyes faded as he watched you slump your shoulders. “What is it, Y/N?”

“We can’t switch it back. Everything has to stay as it is. Rowena is human, and I’m a witch, and nothing’s going to change that.” Expecting the worst from the boys, you pulled away from Sam and moved to the head of the bed, leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped around your knees.

“Y/N, you just said that you have the power and the knowledge to fix it. Why can’t we fix it?” Dean stood up and walked toward you, making you lean your forehead on your knees to hide your face.

More tears slipped down your face, but you took a deep breath and steadied your nerves. You would need your strength if they decided to kick you out.

“I made a deal with Crowley.”

You didn’t get a chance to explain before both brothers yelled, _“WHAT???”_

Waving your arms to try to get them to calm down, you said, “I know! I know how it sounds, but it’s for the best, I swear!”

Dean sat down on the side of the bed, facing you, and Sam stayed near the foot of your bed, also facing you. “All right, Bigs, talk,” Sam said quietly.

“First, I need to tell you about Hell.”

You spent about an hour talking, telling them about your week in Hell, from the death of Jael all the way up to Silas’s death. You explained about the plans other demons had for Hell, and how Crowley had explained to you how none of them would be good for anyone, much less Hell. You told them about watching Crowley rule, and what general plans Crowley had in place, none of which involved innocent people. Throughout it all, Dean looked like he’d eaten something sour and Sam just looked thoughtful.

“You realize he could have staged all of that for your benefit, right?” Dean asked, having started pacing the room halfway through your story. “I mean, he could have staged the entire thing from start to finish so you’d fall for his line and support him, no matter what he did!”

You nodded. “You’re right. And he probably did. But I don’t care. Especially now that Crowley and I have an agreement. As long as he’s king, I will support him when I can. In return, he will never go after a Winchester again.”

Both brothers stared at you.

“I wanted him to help you like I pledged to help him, but he wouldn’t go that far. The best I could get was that he wouldn’t be intentionally responsible for the death of a Winchester. That also includes everyone at the bunker. He reserved the right to be an ass to you, but the worst he can do if you get in his way is lock you up temporarily.”

Sam moved closer to you and pulled one of your hands in his. “But at what cost? What do you have to do?”

You shrugged. “Very little, relatively. I told you before, he just wants a mom. He wants someone who supports him and cares for him and listens to him without trying to take advantage of him or kill him. He can’t trust a demon, and Rowena has done nothing but hate him. She’s got good reasons, which Crowley told me about, but that doesn’t fill the hole she’s left. So, in exchange for your protection, I keep what he gave me, to keep it away from Rowena, and occasionally show my support. Sometimes, that might mean taking a tour of Hell and pretending I’m a double agent with you guys. Sometimes it might mean just talking to him when he needs a sounding board. But giving up being a witch is non-negotiable. I do that, and all bets are off.”

Dean flopped down in the chair and took a long pull from his beer bottle. “Basically, you’re at his beck and call in exchange for our lives.”

“What about if you’re in the middle of a hunt or something? He can’t just demand that you go with him at any time!” Ever the lawyer, Sam was looking for the loopholes.

“There is some leeway allowed in those cases. Each instance will be judged on a case-by-case basis. If we’re in the middle of chopping off vamp heads, but all he needs is a hug, vamps win. If he’s looking at another uprising, but I’m in the middle of cooking dinner, someone’s gonna have to stir my sauce while I’m gone.”

Dean and Sam stared at you with identical sour faces. It was times like these that you couldn’t deny they were brothers.

While your mind searched for a way to break the tension, your mouth started moving. “To be honest, I’m kind of enjoying being a witch. I can do a lot of good with Rowena’s power and knowledge, and now we don’t have hunt her, anymore. It’s going to take some time and practice before I feel completely comfortable with some of the more complicated spells that are now bouncing around in my head, but you saw what I did in the warehouse. If I can do to Wendigos what I can do to demons, we won’t be lugging tons of firepower through Wisconsin forests, anymore.”

Your voice trailed off as the boys stopped staring at you and just shifted uncomfortably.

“Or, maybe you don’t want me around, especially during a hunt, because now I’m the monster.” You curled back up on the bed, your arms wrapped around your knees, hiding your face as tears threatened to fall again.

Sam was by your side instantly. “No, no, Bigs.” He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head, your face still buried. “We know you’re not a monster. This will just take some getting used to.” He rubbed your back in soothing arcs until you lifted your head to look at him. “We know better than anyone what it’s like to be, you know, not yourself, anymore. Right, Dean?”

Dean rubbed both of his hands over his face, looking unhappy, but still walked over to sit on the other bed close to you. “I’m not gonna say I like it, Bigs. I mean, it makes me nervous as hell. But, with time, if things go the way you seem to think they will, then I’ll be fine with it. I believe that you believe that this will all work out just fine, and I know that you’ll do everything you can to make it work. I just don’t trust that everything will fall into place like you hope. It’s just going to take some time for me to trust it, that’s all.”

“So, you’re not going to throw me out?”

Both Winchesters stared at you in horror. “No!”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily, Bigs,” Sam said, rubbing your back again.

“Yeah. You’re kind of stuck with us,” Dean chuckled, leaning toward you to squeeze your shoulder.

“What about John?” Your heart was in your throat as you asked the question you’d put off asking as long as you could.

Twin grimaces and hopeless smiles faced you.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie, that’s probably not gonna happen, now,” Dean said quietly. “I know, you know, um...” Dean stuttered, then looked at Sam and closed his mouth, not wanting to say more if Sam didn’t know.

Sam continued Dean’s thought, though. “We know how you feel about him, and what you want from him, but there’s a big difference between hunting with a werewolf, or even a witch, and, you know….”

“…getting personally involved with one,” you finished for Sam, nodding and sniffing back tears. You wiped more tears from your face and sighed. “Hey, I’ve wanted him for over 30 years without having him and survived. I guess I can keep on doing it.”

As you dropped your head to your knees again, you felt both boys kiss your head and rub your back. If nothing else, you still had what you’d always had: your boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... any guesses as to how John will react? Or Rowena?


	42. 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam

_2009_

_The nights when there was no motel, no abandoned house to squat in, no park bench to rest on, those were the worst. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Dean would have just let you bring camping gear, but he said there wasn’t enough room in the trunk. So, when these nights happened, the boys did their roshambo, and Dean always lost, leaving you sharing the backseat with the older brother._

_This time, somehow, shocking all of you, Dean had won._

_The bastard had gloated about it, too. He took the front seat, stretching out, making little comments about all the space he had. A minute after he closed his eyes, you dropped a full water bottle right onto his stomach, startling him awake. He grabbed the bottle and somehow juggled it, then dropped it again, this time a little further south of his belt, leaving him groaning._

_“That’ll teach ya to gloat, jackass,” you said sleepily, gripping the edge of the seat so you wouldn’t fall off, and Sam trying to make himself as small as possible behind you._

_The next morning, you were startled awake by a ringing phone. Dean and Sam were already up and standing outside the car, so they laughed when they watched you glare at your phone when you realized it wasn’t yours ringing. Dean fumbled around in the glove box until he pulled out the offending phone and answered it. You watched him go through the routine of telling whomever it was that John was dead, but after that, he got quiet. Sam smacked his arm, trying to get Dean to tell him who was calling, but Dean ignored him, speaking only in short, clipped sentences and writing something down._

_By the time he hung up, you and Sammy wore matching expressions, arms crossed and brows furrowed. Dean looked at both of you helplessly for a second, then furrowed his own brow._

_“Who was it, Dean? What did they want?”_

_Dean shook his head. “It’s a trap. Someone’s trying to lure us in. There’s no way.” Dean’s eyes rested on you, filled with dread and despair for you, but you didn’t know why._

_“What did they say, Dean?” Sam demanded, smacking Dean’s shoulder again to his attention off of you. Dean’s eyes never wavered, though._

_“His name was Adam Milligan. He said he was Dad’s son.”_

_The rest of the conversation washed over you, words that meant nothing, though you supposed they should. Dean fought against it, and Sam agreed to do the research on the way. When Sam turned his back to the two of you to get in the car, Dean rubbed your back and kissed your forehead._

_The drive to Minnesota was quiet, everyone in their own thoughts. Sam did as much research as he could while in a moving car, and then had Dean stop at the local library while he ran in and copied records. When he came back out, he had a folder full of papers, and you knew in your heart, that it was true._

_All the way to the diner, Dean insisted that the kid had to be either a monster or possessed, and there was no way his dad had another kid and didn’t tell them. Sam rattled off names and dates, even showing you and Dean the ripped-out pages in John’s journal. You thought about 1990 and remembered exactly how much time you had spent watching Dean and Sam that year. Of course, he had time to spend with this Kate woman, he had you watching his kids._

_Dean had set up two tests, holy water and silver cutlery, while Sam rambled on about how this kid had to be legit._

_“I mean, Dad would be gone for weeks at a time, and he wasn’t exactly a monk,” Sam said, not knowing he was stabbing you in the heart. “I mean, a hunter rolls into town, kills a monster, saves the girl… sometimes the girl’s grateful.” And there went the knife in your heart, twisting._

_Dean saw your distress and did he best to silence his brother. “Well, now I’m thinking about Dad sex. Stop talking.”_

_“Maybe he slipped one past the goalie,” Sam added, making your hand twitch as you fought the urge to smack him. Dean objected for you, seeing you chewing on your lip so hard it was raw._

_Just then, a kid walked in, and you knew as soon as you saw him that he was John’s son. You watched, still unable to speak, as he passed every test, and then started talking about John. About how John never knew about him. About how John came running when his mom finally called. About how John would drop by about once a year._

_Dean finally had had enough and just called Adam out. He just called Adam a liar right there in the diner. Adam wouldn’t be cowed, though._

_As Adam showed you all pictures and talked about John taking him to baseball games, you suddenly realized that this affected more than just you. John had done things with this kid he had never done with your boys, and Dean, at least, was hurting. When he picked up a picture of Kate and showed it to you, you clenched your fists and gritted your teeth. God, she looked just like Mary. Of course, John never looked at you twice, you didn’t look like Mary at all._

_Being the smallest of the three of you, you got the joy of crawling through Kate’s air ducts. And finding bits of Kate._

_The rest of the case was a blur. Telling Adam about monsters, trying to get him trained, watching Sam snuff all of the kid’s hopes and dreams out by telling him his life’s effectively over, getting in between your boys when they argued about how to handle everything. You even tried to sit down with Adam and talk to him, find out what he was thinking beyond getting revenge for his mom._

_Yeah, you regretted that when he had Sam tied down, bleeding, sticking his fucking finger in Sam’s side. Having to watch as the two ghouls sliced into his skin, taunting you both, made helping Dean take them out all the sweeter._

_After Sam was fixed up, and after the real Adam was burned, Dean drove until he was falling asleep, then found a motel for the night. Sam went straight to bed, tired from all of the blood loss and high emotions of the previous two days. You and Dean stayed up and drank, not really talking, just stewing in your own juices next to each other. When the whiskey was gone, the two of you crawled into the second bed together, backs pressed against each other._

_“Hey, Bigs?”_

_“Yeah, Dean?”_

_“I’m sorry. For all of it. Dad was an idiot.”_

_You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, sometimes he was, Lima Bean. I’m sorry for you, too. He did his best, but I know it hurts.”_

_Dean’s back shifted against yours. “At least Adam had his mom, and we had you and Bobby. It could have been worse. We’re pretty lucky, I think.”_

_“Yeah, Dean, we are lucky.”_


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds out about your deal.

It was late, so you headed into the bathroom to change into one of Sam’s shirts to sleep in while Sam went to switch places with John, so you and Dean could catch him up. You spent some extra time in the bathroom alone, just wanting some quiet space for your mind to stop spinning. Mumbled voices through the door were just background noise, until they weren’t.

“Whaddya mean, we’re not fixing her? We’ve got the witch, we’ve got Y/N, she’s got the power, why aren’t we fixing this?” John’s voice was barely muffled as his words filtered through the door.

Dean’s voice was quieter, so you couldn’t understand what he said. With a deep sigh, you finished up in the bathroom and opened the door. Dean looked stressed as he looked up at his dad, his hair sticking up haphazardly from running his hand through it. John looked flummoxed, eyes wide and mouth agape.

John turned to you. “You made a deal with the King of Hell???”

You took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Yes. It keeps everyone I love safe, not to mention keeps a demon we know in control of Hell. So, yes. I made a deal.”

John squinted, his head shaking in disbelief. “Are you somehow still under his control? The Y//N I know would never do something this stupid.”

Your breath caught in your throat as John’s words sliced through your heart. Anger bubbled up through your chest to replace the pain, though. Your voice was low and menacing when you finally were able to speak. “The Y/N you know was young and naïve and died with you over a decade ago. She thought everything was black and white and never looked at the big picture. I just spent a week doing nothing but looking at the big picture. My deal keeps Crowley in power, which reduces the number of innocent lives lost. On top of that, as long as he is in power, everyone in the bunker is safe. Not to mention, a powerful witch who wanted to see us all dead, including Crowley, is now no longer a threat. I’d say having to put up with suddenly becoming the most powerful witch Crowley’s ever seen and giving him a hug every now and then is a small price to pay. If doing whatever I can to protect my family is stupid, then I’m guilty as charged. You’re welcome.”

Turning away from John, you headed to one of the beds, pulling back the covers and crawling in, hoping that was the end of the conversation. Unfortunately, your hopes were dashed.

“There’s no need for you to become this, this, _thing,_ that he made you become, Y/N! We’re fucking Winchesters! We can take care of our own without making deals with demons, anymore! Haven’t you learned anything from our mistakes?” John’s voice echoed throughout the room, and probably throughout the whole motel.

“Yes, John, I have. I never put my soul on the bargaining table. I made a good deal, and a hundred years from now, long after all of you have died peacefully in your beds instead of at the hands of a demon, I will still know I made a good deal.”

John deflated, while Dean just stared at you wide-eyed. Dean had never seen you stand up to his father, before, much less win an argument with him.

“Now,” you said, pulling the covers up and flopping over onto your side, “I’m going to sleep. If you want to yell at me some more, you can do it in the morning.”

You heard the motel room door open and slam shut, and then Dean was taking off his flannel and jeans on the other side of the bed. Dean climbed in next to you and pulled you to him. Normally, you were the one comforting him, but this time, the roles were reversed. You buried your face in his neck and wept.

When your sobs slowed to a stop, Dean kissed your head. “Hey, Bigs? When you said that thing about a hundred years from now, what did you mean?”

Still sniffling, you replied, “Rowena’s close to 400 years old, Dean. I have anti-aging spells and longevity spells floating around in my head, but I don’t know for sure that she’s used them. There’s a possibility I will outlive all of you. It’s one of the things I had to face when I made the agreement. I may live long enough that Cas and Crowley are the only family I’ll have left.”

Dean said nothing, just squeezed you and rubbed your back until you fell into a troubled sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s arms were still around you, but they couldn’t block out the angry whispering coming from the other side of the room. As you stirred, Dean waved an arm at John and Sam.

“Will you two take this somewhere else? Y/N needs her rest and you’re going to wake her up!” Dean whispered, trying to cover your ears so you wouldn’t hear.

Wriggling in his arms, you pulled your head out from his hold and glared at the world in general. “Too late. What are we arguing about, now?”

Sam huffed. “Dad wants to bring Rowena back to the bunker with us.”

Of all the things you thought he’d say, that wasn’t one of them. “Are you kidding me?” You sat up and stared at John. “She has actively tried to kill us, and you want to bring her home?” You shook your head. “No way. I say, give her cab fare and send her on her way.”

John straightened as he faced you. “The woman has nothing. No power, no money, nothing but the clothes on her back. She’s damn pitiful right now, and you want to hold a grudge? She doesn’t even know how to be human!”

“She’s almost 400 years old, John. I’m pretty sure she can figure it out!” You stood up and stalked toward John, but he just looked you up and down, turned on his heel, and left the room. Picking up your clothes from the day before, you headed into the bathroom. “I’m getting showered and dressed. Please, someone, have coffee and breakfast here when I get out, or I might turn your father into something that can’t talk.”

Before you could shut the door, Dean chuckled. “Not sure anyone’s powerful enough to do that, Bigs, but I’d sure love to watch you try!”

You hoped that coffee and breakfast with your boys would greet you when you left the bathroom. You weren’t that lucky. Sitting on the end of your bed was Rowena, with John sitting next to her, holding one of her hands in both of his, comforting her.

“We’ll take you shopping to get you some new clothes, and when we get back to the bunker, we’ll find you a job and help you get back on your feet.”

You froze in the bathroom doorway, taking in the scene. Rowena did look pitiful. She was clean, but her dress was torn and dirty, most likely from making her way out of the forest where Crowley’s demon had left her. She was gazing up at John like he’d hung the moon, which only turned your stomach. John glanced at you, bringing you to Rowena’s attention, too.

“Oh, Y/N! Thank God you’re alright! I was worried Fergus might have done ya some damage during yer escape!” Although she looked at you and talked to you, her hands remained in John’s, her side pressed up against his.

“I’m fine, Rowena. See, when I wanted something from Crowley, I tried talking to him, first, not manipulating him or trying to kill him. You’d be amazed at how receptive folks can be when you ask nicely.”

You folded up Sam’s shirt and put it into his duffel, thanking him for it as you passed him sitting at the table. He handed you a cup of coffee and waved at the breakfast sandwiches on the table, so you sat down across from him and ate. The more Rowena spoke, though, the more it all stuck in your throat.

“Well, you know, I tried to love my son, and do what was best for him, but I was a working single parent, which was especially difficult back then.” She turned to John and squeezed his hand. “I know you know what I’m talking about, you dear man.”

John squirmed in his seat but nodded. “I had a lot of help, though. I couldn’t have done it without Y/N and Bobby and Jim.”

“Yes, it does take a village, doesn’t it? Sadly, my village ran me out of town, and I had to leave my wee sausage behind. I could only hope they would care for him like I would have.”

You rolled your eyes and wrapped up what was left of your sandwich in the wrapper and threw it away, using your coffee to choke down what was already in your mouth. “So, I take it we’re playing halfway house for ex-witches, now. Good to know.”

Sam gave you his bitch face that meant, ‘I’m with you, but I got outvoted.’ John was just stoic in his anger.

“Well, unless you’d like to give back to me what was taken?” Rowena’s voice was sickeningly sweet, and it grated on your nerves.

“Sorry, Rowena, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.” You flashed what you hoped was a sympathetic smile but couldn’t hold it.

“Surely, someone of your power and knowledge would be able to reverse what my son did?” Her voice was still sweet as pie, but you could hear the ribbon of surprise and panic weaved into it.

“Part of my deal with Crowley was that I keep what he gave me. Give it back, my deal’s off, and I have very strong reasons for wanting that deal to stay in place. Beyond that, even though he downloaded a ridiculous amount of information into my brain, none of it would do what you want me to do. Hence, why I said I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. We’re stuck like this, Rowena, so we just have to learn to live with it.”

Standing up, you pulled on your jacket and rested your hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m going to wait for Dean outside. I need some air.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone heads back to the bunker, including Rowena.

The trip back to the bunker was excruciating. You refused to sit next to Rowena, but when you tried to call shotgun, Sam just gave you the biggest set of puppy eyes you’d ever seen. He waved at himself, then at his father, and you knew what he was thinking. Dean had to drive, and Sam needed shotgun because two men over 6’3” just didn’t fit together in the back seat. John ended up sitting on the hump in the middle, you and Rowena on either side. Rowena thought this was just grand and enjoyed leaning against John and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, so he could stretch out. You were still mad at John for calling you stupid, not to mention his insistence that Rowena was harmless, so you spent the entire two days on the road leaning against the window, trying to keep as much distance between you as possible.

Your first stop was to go clothes shopping, though. Since the Winchesters wouldn’t know a blouse from a tunic, you ended up guiding Rowena through a Walmart, listening to her complain about the quality and styles. The credit card you were using had a limit, though, so you had to walk her through how to mix and match clothes, picking things that coordinated, rather than buying entire outfits that could only be worn by themselves. In turn, she got in little digs about your height, the clothing you bought for yourself not flattering ‘your strange body type’, and how your skin was obviously roughened ‘by a lifetime of roughhousing like a boy’ and not as delicate as hers, since the materials didn’t make you itch. By the time you got through the checkout, your eyes had rolled so hard and so often, you thought they’d stick if you did it again. After you both got in the car, though, she was nothing but complimentary about your kindness in helping her find suitable clothing for her new life on a budget.

You wanted to gag.

The entire drive back to Kansas was like that. Every bathroom stop included little digs about you, but when you were back in the car, she sang your praises. By the time you stopped for the first night, you couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

Like the night before, John stayed with Rowena, and you stayed with the boys, sharing a bed with Dean. After dinner, when John and Rowena left, you screamed into a pillow in frustration. Your boys both chuckled, which just made you want to scream more.

“What’s got you so worked up, Bigs?” Dean teased, handing you a beer and watching you drink the whole thing in one go.

“That, that… _woman_!” You reached for another beer and opened it, tossing the cap furiously at the trash can. “Whenever we’re alone, it’s the catty little digs, but as soon as we’re back with you guys, she’s sweet as pie! And watching her with your father…!” You closed your eyes and dropped your head, reminding yourself to breathe. A long moment passed before you shook your head and took another pull from your beer.

“I have to say, watching the way she’s buttering up Dad is kind of stomach-churning,” Sam agreed, toasting you with his bottle before taking a drink.

Dean’s face went pale. “Oh crap, we’re not gonna have to call her Mommy, are we?”

You and Sam both picked up bottle caps and threw them at Dean, making him laugh as he ducked the projectiles.

“Hopefully, he’ll wise up before it gets that far,” Sam replied, his face grim.

The three of you were quiet for a while, just playing with your beer bottles, thoughtful looks on all of your faces. Dean was the first to break the silence.

“So, I got a text from Jo today.” You and Sam looked up at Dean, but he didn’t look back at either of you. “Ellen found out about us, so there’s no more sneaking around.”

You and Sam both bit your lips to stifle your giggles but tried to keep straight faces.

“Oh, really?” you asked, hoping your face wasn’t breaking up like it wanted to.

“Yeah, ah… well… Jo was late this month, and Ellen found the test in the trash. Since Jo’s the only woman in the bunker right now, that’s, you know….” Dean’s face was turning so red, you worried about his blood pressure.

“Yeah, Dean, we know…both of age and interested in dick,” you teased.

Sam snorted a laugh and then covered his face with his hand, trying to stay straight.

“Yeah, what you said,” Dean mumbled, waving his beer at you. “So, Ellen confronted Jo, and they had a long talk, and now everything’s out in the open.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, but you and Sam just kept staring at him.

“What? Why are you two staring at me like that?”

“Dean??” you cried, waving at him to keep talking. Dean stared wide-eyed at you, then looked at Sam, hoping his brother would explain what you wanted.

“Dean, is she pregnant or not?”

“No! God, don’t you think I would have led with that if she was??” Dean’s eyes were wild as he looked back and forth between you.

You and Sam both laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said, looking at Dean fondly. “You’d make a great dad, you know that?”

Dean shook his head, but his mouth was turned up in a little smile. “Pfft. That’s the last thing on my mind right now.” He finished off his beer and cleared his throat before getting up to grab another round for you all. “Anyway, there’s no reason for Dad to think we’re together, anymore, so I’ll tell him in the morning.”

You huffed. “Assuming you can get him away from Rowena. Not sure I’d want her to know about you two, but if your dad insists on her living with us, she’s gonna find out, anyway.”

Sam interjected. “I understand giving her a place to stay for a few days until we can get her set up someplace else and helping her figure out what she’s gonna do with her new life. Beyond that, though, I want her gone. I know Crowley took away all of her witchy knowledge, but she remembers that she’s forgotten things, and I’m willing to bet the first thing she tries to do is fill in those blanks. Sticking her in the middle of the largest supernatural library we’ve ever seen just seems like trouble waiting to happen.”

Dean agreed. “Yeah, if she’s not gone by the end of the week, Dad and I are gonna have a problem.”

“I don’t understand why he’s so gung-ho to help her, anyway,” you murmured, almost hoping they didn’t hear you. Dean did hear you, though.

“I think he thinks that he’ll find a way to put you back, give Rowena her powers back. He really doesn’t like you being a witch, Y/N.”

“I don’t like that I’m a witch, either, Dean. I mean, it’s kind of nice knowing I can protect myself and you guys better than before, but there’s a shit-ton of crap floating in my head right now, and I know it all, and I understand it all, but it’s all new, at the same time. It’s overwhelming. I’m hoping once I get home and have some time to maybe download some of it into a journal or something it will all stop making my head feel like it’s gonna explode. My brain is itching for me to have a witch journal like my hunter’s journal and take over one of the empty labs as a workroom. At the same time, part of me just wants to throw it all away and pretend it’s not there. But I can’t. If I’m going to survive, I need to embrace it, whether I like it or not.”

You played with your beer bottle with both hands, picking at the label. Sam reached over and put one of his hands on one of your arms, and Dean followed suit with the other.

“No matter what, Bigs, we’ll help you get through it,” Sam said, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, Bigs. You need a journal and workroom, you got it. We’ll clean out one of the storerooms or something,” Dean said, giving you a reassuring smile.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked back and forth between Sam and Dean. “Thanks, guys. I love you, too.”

Both Winchesters blushed and smiled, ducking their heads and clearing their throats. Dean forced the change in subject, first, letting go of you and mumbling something about finding something to watch on TV and going to bed. Once the three of you were settled on the beds watching TV, you fell asleep feeling safer than you had since this whole thing began, knowing your boys would take care of you.


	45. 1997

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is too old for a babysitter, so you try to make a life for yourself without the Winchesters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know very little of the kind of behavior described here, and I've tried not to describe it too graphically to avoid needing warnings. If you feel I should add tags, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

_1997_

_John and the boys waved as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot. You managed to keep your composure until the car had disappeared, but then the tears came. You probably wouldn’t see the Winchesters anymore, unless you happened to work the same hunt. Sam was 14, now, and no longer needed a babysitter. He was already almost as tall as you, and with his height, people thought he was older than he was. They didn’t need you. And John didn’t want you._

_Your home base had been Bobby’s house for a while, now, but you just didn’t feel like tucking your tail between your legs and crawling home. You had known that Sam was getting too old to need you, so when John called this time, you had thought maybe… maybe he wasn’t really calling for Sam._

_But he was calling for Sam. Sam’s one request for his birthday had been that you be there for it, so John had sent for you. Dean was an adult, now, working odd jobs to earn money to help take care of Sammy if he wasn’t working the hunt with John. Dean had given up on school, opting to just get his GED rather than try to graduate with his spotty transcript, and he was launching himself head first into the hunting life. He’d even made a half-hearted pass at you when no one else was looking. You knew he didn’t mean it, and you could never think of him that way, anyway. You’d cleaned up his puke one too many times. The way your heart ached, though, wishing it were his father…._

_You didn’t want to go home to Bobby and his ‘I told you so’ face. He’d made enough mumbled comments about you panting after John that you knew he knew how you felt. You couldn’t face it. So, you grabbed a newspaper and found yourself a hunt._

_Every ghost you dug up, every werewolf you stabbed in the heart, every cursed object you destroyed, you poured your anger and disappointment into them. You threw yourself into hunting like it was a lifeline, and maybe it was. Your parents were gone, the Winchesters were gone, and the monsters of the world were to blame._

_It was on a rawhead hunt that you met Pete. You both just happened to find the same hunt, and you ran into each other at the bar your first night, both of you looking for information. Pete was a good hunter, a straight shooter (both literally and figuratively), and easy on the eyes. He was tall, dark, and handsome, but with bright blue eyes that constantly surprised you. He wasn’t as tall, as dark, or as handsome as John, but you were putting the Winchesters behind you. When the hunt was done, and you’d even saved a child, the two of you celebrated by getting stinking drunk and falling into bed together._

_As a lover, Pete was better than any you’d had. He’d actually managed to ring your bell once or twice the first week you were together. He had eyes only for you, which was unusual in a hunter, since being nomadic tended to amount to anything but monogamous in most hunters. He watched you like a hawk when you went to bars, driving away anyone who sought to talk to you, even women. He became your world, and you followed him wherever he went._

_After you’d been together for a couple of months, he surprised you by buying you new clothes. It was so thoughtful since hunting was really tough on clothing. He managed to get the sizes wrong on everything, making everything hang on you unattractively, but he was so sincere when he gave them to you, you couldn’t hurt his feelings by returning everything. When you tried to wear your old clothes, though, he got angry and defensive, even though the baggy clothing was a hazard when you were hunting._

_During one hunt, when you were stumped, you offered to call Bobby, knowing that Bobby would probably know exactly what you were hunting and how to kill it. Pete blew up, accusing you of saying he didn’t know anything, and that he was a lousy hunter. He declared that he would kill this monster without anyone else’s help, not even yours. After he stormed out, you would’ve called Bobby, anyway, but Pete had smashed your phone during his outburst. When he came back, bloody but triumphant, he took you roughly, not bothering to wash up first, monster blood smearing on your skin. When he was finished and in the shower cleaning up, you sat on the bed and cried, wondering what you’d done wrong._

_The months wore on, and hunting itself was getting harder, somehow, too. It seemed like you could never do anything right, anymore. You constantly failed to figure out the monster before someone else died, and half the time you thought it was something other than it was, risking both of your lives by going into situations unprepared. One night, the two of you got seriously hurt when you ran into a vampire. Even though everyone you knew thought vampires were extinct, Pete yelled and screamed at you about how you should have known and almost got you both killed. Pete drove you to the hospital while you tried to hold your guts in place after the vampire had gotten your knife from you, yelling the entire way. He stayed by your side through your entire time in the emergency room, only leaving you when you went into surgery._

_You woke up in the recovery room, doctors and nurses bustling around and lots of beeping coming from all directions. Sitting next to your bed was the nurse from the emergency room who had checked you in. She had dark skin, wild, curly hair, and the softest eyes you’d ever seen._

_“Y/N! You’re awake! That’s good news! I’m Vanessa. The doctor said that everything went off without a hitch and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”_

_“Why are you here? Where’s Pete?”_

_The nurse clenched her jaw and frowned. “The man who brought you is in the waiting room, and he will stay there until you say you’re feeling up to seeing him.” She turned down the corner of the page she had been reading and closed her book, tucking it into her purse. “Y/N, do you have any other family I could call for you?”_

_Closing your eyes, you thought of the Winchesters, and Bobby. You suddenly realized you hadn’t heard from any of them in almost six months. Your phone was basically an expensive paperweight, with no calls or messages logged on it in months. Tears streamed down your face and Vanessa cooed over you while she grabbed a tissue and tried to dry your tears._

_“Honey, that man isn’t worth your tears. If you have anyone else at all that I can call, any family, even if they haven’t talked to you in a while, please let me call them. I know they’ll want to see you, baby. Is there anyone?”_

_Your face scrunched up as more sobs struggled to get free of your control. Finally, you nodded. “Bobby Singer. Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Singer Auto Salvage.”_

_Vanessa beamed back at you, smoothing down your hair and wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’ll call him right now, honey.”_

_Two hours later, you were moved into a room, Vanessa by your side every step of the way. Bobby had answered her call and was on his way, having told Vanessa he’d been trying to find you for months. Once you were settled in your room, you heard a commotion outside, and when it finally died down, Bobby walked in, looking a little ruffled._

_He sat down in the chair next to your bed, took your hand in both of his, and kissed it. “As soon as they let you out of here, I’m taking you home, and there’s nothing Pete can do to stop me.”_

_More tears streamed down your face. “I don’t know what happened, Bobby. He was so sweet at first.”_

_“You fell off the grid a while back, Y/N. What happened? I’ve been leaving messages and sending emails and never heard a word.”_

_“What? Bobby, I haven’t heard anything from anyone in months!” Emotion choked you, breaking your voice. “I thought everyone just forgot about me.”_

_“Are you joking? Dean and Sam have been worried sick! We’ve got every hunter we know keeping their eyes out for you! We’ve done everything to find you outside of actually calling the police and filing a missing persons report!”_

_Your head dropped back on the pillow as you soaked in what Bobby was telling you. Somehow, Pete had managed to cut you off from everyone without you even realizing it. Relief flooded your system. No one had forgotten you. People did care. Despair turned into anger, fear into determination. “If he’s still stupid enough to be waiting outside for me, you tell him he’d better run far and fast or I will skin him alive myself.”_

_Bobby smirked. “That’s my girl.”_


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're all back at the bunker, and Rowena is simply adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mush from watching videos of Jensen singing at SNS tonight, so y'all get an extra chapter.

The first one in the bunker to ‘welcome’ Rowena’s arrival was Charlie.

You should have seen it coming, really. It had been Rowena’s needling that had led to Charlie putting herself in the danger that eventually got her killed. Of course, Charlie would react poorly to seeing the other redhead. You just didn’t expect her to come out punching.

John was walking Rowena towards the bedrooms when Charlie caught up to you and Dean, her fist making contact with your arm almost before you knew she was there.

“What the _hell_ is that mega-witch doing here, and why is John helping her choose a freaking _bedroom_??”

You rubbed your arm where your friend had punched you. “Ow, Charlie! Sheesh!” Dean kept walking, wanting to see Jo, while you stopped and turned to Charlie. “And Rowena’s not the witch, here, anymore.” You dropped your head and fiddled with your bag of dirty clothing, not knowing how to meet her eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Charlie whispered vehemently.

“Crowley took all the witchy bits out of Rowena and put them into me.” Charlie was unnaturally quiet, so you led her to your room while you explained everything that had happened, up to and including John becoming Rowena’s mentor. Charlie sat on your bed in shock as you changed into comfortable clothes.

“So, you can do magic, and you know everything she knew, and she’s got nothing but holes in her head?”

You nodded. “Pretty much. From what I’ve gathered, having to listen to her and John talk in the car for two days, she remembers doing things, just not the spells or what ingredients she used or anything like that. There’s a certain amount of intent involved in the easier spells, but it sounds like she’s forgotten even that. For example, you can use the same spell to light a candle as you can to incinerate a demon. You have to be focused on what exactly you want catching fire, and how much fire you want, to get it right.”

Charlie nodded, looking thoughtful. “I can see that. What I can’t understand is why John is taking such an interest in her, when you’re right here. Y/N, you should have seen him after you disappeared. He was the first person to realize you were gone, and the first person to think something was wrong. Honestly, Dean only called you to get his dad off his back. He was trying to have some alone time with Jo, and John just wouldn’t leave him alone.” She rolled her eyes and giggled. “He was all, ‘stomp, stomp, stomp, she’s your girlfriend, Dean! Why aren’t you wondering where your girlfriend has been for the past 6 hours??’ And Dean just turned red and sputtered a lot. It was hilarious!”

You laughed at her impression of John, her voice low and menacing and her shoulders as straight and as broad as she could make them. “Well, he may have been worried then, but he’s certainly not, now. No, now he’s got a cute, little, 400-year old, fawning sycophant who used to be able to trick her way into and out of fancy hotels, but now can’t figure out how a credit card works. I know she didn’t use magic for absolutely everything, but the way she acts, you’d think she’d used it to get dressed every morning.” You rolled your eyes and flopped down onto your bed in disgust.

“Well, John doesn’t strike me as the type to like helpless women. I mean, consider who he married. I doubt this act of hers will do what she wants in the long run.”

She had a point, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. “Well, no matter what, I’m a witch, now, and I need to get my witchy-self figured out. Wanna help me pick out a room to work in, and get it cleaned out?”

“Sure! I wasn’t planning on sleeping, anyway!” Charlie replied with a grin.

Sam and Charlie both helped you find a room that was suitable and get it cleaned out. By the time they were tired out, Dean and Jo had resurfaced, and they helped you go through all the witch-related books in the library and move them into your new workroom. At first, they questioned dividing up the library, but when you explained that you’d be locking the door to keep Rowena out, they understood. Sam’s fear about Rowena looking for witchy information was valid, and this would keep it out of her hands. Bobby and Ellen both checked on you at times during the night, both of them concerned about the changes you’d gone through and how hard you were working yourself so soon. They brought food and drinks with their concern, and you suddenly couldn’t remember how you’d gotten along without them for so long.

In the morning, when the basics of your workroom were set up, you looked around and smiled. Yes, you were exhausted, but it was worth it. You locked the door with a key, then whispered a spell over the door, and headed to breakfast, knowing you had done all you could to keep Rowena out.

You were eating a snack in the kitchen while Sam ate his breakfast when John and Rowena walked in. John was showing Rowena where the dishes and breakfast foods were kept while you rolled your eyes at Sam, who stifled a laugh. It was all light-hearted until Rowena couldn’t reach something.

“Oh, John? Could you help me get that box of cereal from the cabinet? I’m afraid my little arms just aren’t long enough to reach!” She did a little dance on her toes, smiling coyly as she stretched her arm up to the cabinet.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” John said, grabbing the box and handing it to her with a smile that made you want to gag.

“I suppose you’re not used to having such a wee one as meself in the place. You Winchesters are all such giants!” Rowena giggled, and you stuck your tongue out, dropping the bite of sandwich that was in your mouth onto your plate in disgust. Sam smirked and rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide a chortle. “And you, too, Y/N! You know, if I didn’t know otherwise, I’d think you were a Winchester, too!”

You’d spent your entire life hearing people exclaim about your height, so this was nothing new to you. The way she made it very clear you were not a Winchester, though, that chafed.

“Y/N is a Winchester, Rowena,” Sam said with a frown. “She’s been with us longer, and more consistently, than anyone else in our lives, even Dad.”

“I’ve even done a turn in Hell, now, and I think that was the final qualification, right, Smalls?” you joked, giving Sam a wry smile.

Sam’s look immediately soured, though, his entire body stiffening, and you knew you’d said the wrong thing. You reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it until he looked up at you. Trying to reassure him, you gave him a smile, and he nodded, letting his posture relax again. However, his frown didn’t budge.

“Well, if that’s what it takes, then I’m qualified, too!” Rowena chirped, setting her bowl of cereal down on the table next to where John was eating his. Not wanting to look at her, you kept your eyes on Sam, hoping he wasn’t dwelling on your comment. “Enough of such depressing talk, though. What’s everybody got planned for today, then? Y/N, I imagine you’ll be getting some rest today after your ordeal with Fergus. He must not have let you get much sleep, you poor thing. Did he not teach you a vanity spell or two to help you get rid of under-eye bags and such?”

“Actually, I haven’t been to bed, yet, so I will be taking a nap, soon,” you said through a yawn. Turning your gaze to Rowena, you hoped your look would put her down, but knew you weren’t that lucky. “And no, Crowley didn’t need to teach me any spells, because they’re all already in my head. Instead of using magic, however, I think I’ll just rely on good, old-fashioned sleep.”

“I’m surprised Dean hasn’t already forced you to bed, Y/N,” John remarked. “I thought he’d take better care of his girl.” He frowned and glared into his cereal bowl while you stared at him, your mind working. Apparently, Dean never got to tell his father about him and Jo. Well, you weren’t going to say anything with Rowena around, so you let it slide. Not that Rowena gave you a chance.

“He should take after his father more, then. You’ve taken very good care of me these past few days, making sure I’m eating and sleeping well.” She smiled sweetly up at John, and your stomach lurched. John’s face flushed pink and you turned away, your heart aching.

You picked up your plate and put it in the sink. “I’m a grown woman, John, and I can take care of myself. It’s not Dean’s job to follow me around and tell me what I should be doing.” On your way out the door, you squeezed Sam’s shoulder and kissed him on the head, sensing he was still upset over your Hell comment. “Good morning, everyone. I’m off to bed.”

By the time you reached your bedroom, which was in between Dean’s and Sam’s, you thought steam was probably coming out of your ears. Dean was leaving his room as you approached and stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Bigs. What’s wrong?”

“I thought becoming a witch meant I wouldn’t have to see that conniving, pocket-sized, 400-year old porcupine, but no! I had to eat breakfast with her!” you growled, making Dean take a step back from you. “And your father thinks you should have forced me to go to bed hours ago, because he thought you’d ‘take better care of your girl’. I’m tired, and I just want her fucking gone, Dean.” Your anger dissolved into exhausted frustration, your head dropping to your chest as you felt the urge the cry from the letdown.

Dean wrapped his arms around you and held you close, rubbing your back and cradling your head to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bigs. I’ll talk to Dad, and work on doing whatever needs doing to get rid of her.” He let you go from his hold but kept one arm behind your back as he led you to your room. “You’ve done everything you could to keep things safe, so you can rest. Sammy and Jo and I will do a quick inventory of the rest of the bunker to see if there’s anything else that should be locked away. Now, go get some sleep.”

With a gentle smile on his face, Dean tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead. You dropped into sleep quickly, trying to concentrate on good thoughts, but images of John’s flushed face at Rowena’s attention still haunted you.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep isn't easy, but being awake ain't no picnic, either.

_You were back in Hell, the screams of the damned ringing in your ears, a demon prodding you in the back as you walked down a long hallway. This time, though, Crowley was nowhere to be seen. When you got to your cell, instead of an empty room with a slimy floor, it was a sterilized operating room. Standing by the table in the center of the room was John, wearing his usual denim and flannel, but it was covered in blood. Some of the blood was dried and crusted, but some was fresh. There was a splatter of blood across his face, and his hair was matted, but he didn’t seem to notice._

_“Ah, there you are, Y/N! I was wondering when you’d come to see me. Here, hop up on this table, and we’ll get you fixed up in no time!”_

_You began to struggle, but the demon behind you grabbed your arms and forced you forward. Two more demons appeared from nowhere, and they overpowered you, setting you on the table and strapping you down. John did nothing to stop them, simply stood there and waited for them to finish._

_“John, please, whatever you think is happening, you don’t need to do this. Please, John, let me go! Please!”_

_John gave you a gentle smile before turning away from you and looking over a tray of tools. “I think for this, we need precision. I’ll start with the boning knife and maybe switch to a scalpel for the fine-tuning.”_

_Your eyes were glued to the long, thin, impossibly sharp knife as he showed it to you, still not telling you why he was doing what he was doing. “Please, John, what are you doing? What do you think is wrong with me? There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m fine!”_

_John didn’t hear your words, though, and used the knife to cut each button off of your flannel shirt until it hung open. He then cut through your tank top until it, too, was hanging open, leaving you bare to John’s eyes. Of all the times you’d dreamed about John undressing you, this was not what you had imagined._

_“Just a few small cuts right around here,” he traced the tip of the blade around your heart, the tip leaving a thin red line everywhere it touched, “and we’ll get that nasty infection right out of you. You’ll be good as new in no time, sweetheart!”_

_“Please, John, no! There’s nothing wrong with me! Please, no! Don’t do this!” The restraints cut into your wrists and ankles painfully, but you fought against them, anyway. “Please, John!”_

_“It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re gonna be just fine….”_

_“No! No! No! John, no!” You closed your eyes, so you wouldn’t have to see the good intentions shining in John’s eyes as he cut into your flesh._

“Sweetheart, wake up! C’mon, Y/N, snap out of it and wake up, dammit!”

Your eyes flew open, and John was hovering over you, shaking your shoulders. Feeling the terror of the dream still wild in your mind, you ripped yourself from his hold and scrambled across the bed to get away from him. You wrapped the covers around your body and curled up into a ball, your back against the headboard and your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

John flew back to the other end of the bed, his hands up in surrender. “Y/N, you’re okay. You’re in the bunker. You’re safe.”

Slowly, reality seeped into your frightened brain, and your body relaxed. Your breathing finally slowed as you looked around, rooting yourself in your surroundings. As you relaxed, so did John, letting his hands drop to his lap.

“What are you doing in here, John?” Your eyes were still wide, and you hadn’t moved from the end of the bed, so John tried to move closer to you. In spite of your dream fading away, you still flinched, and John stopped where he was.

“I was talking with Dean about Jo and Rowena. When I left his room, I heard you saying my name. When I realized you were having a nightmare, I came in to wake you up. What were you dreaming, honey?”

The last wisps of the dream were disappearing like mist on a summer day, but the memory of the fear was still strong. “I was in Hell, and you were gonna do something to me. That’s all I can remember, now.”

John’s face fell. “Y/N, you know I’d never intentionally do something to hurt you, right?”

You nodded, but in your emotional state, tears were still welling up in your eyes. “Could you do me a favor, John?” He nodded, looking relieved at getting instructions on how to make you feel better. “Could you get Dean or Sam for me?”

John’s face fell again, but he nodded and left the room quickly. A minute later, Dean appeared, rushing into the room and settling on the bed next to you. You fell into his arms, tears streaming down your face, even if you no longer remembered why.

“Man, it must have been bad,” Dean mumbled to himself as he held you. “Hey, Bigs, wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head as you bawled into his chest. “I don’t even remember the details, anymore. Just that it was Hell, and John was gonna hurt me.”

Dean shushed you, muttering comforting words and rocking you until the worst of your tears passed. “Hey, Bigs, if you could have a lifetime supply of ice cream, what flavor would you want?”

Sniffling, you answered, “Peanut butter cup. And I want hot fudge and whipped cream to make sundaes. And those awful cherries, too.”

Dean chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter erupting from his chest under your ear soothing your soul.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Bigs?”

“If you had to take a lifetime supply of canned vegetables, what would you take?”

You could feel Dean’s grimace, even though your head was pressed against his chest. “Blech. Canned vegetables are like shitty stunt demons of the vegetable world, Bigs. I can’t at least have frozen? Does it have to be canned?”

“It has to be canned,” you replied with a smile, already beginning to feel better.

“Geez, I guess tomatoes, then. Canned tomatoes are an easy way to make all kinds of stuff, like chili and spaghetti, so I’d have a lot of use for tomatoes, I guess.”

“You know tomatoes aren’t a vegetable, right?”

Dean chuckled. “I know some people say they’re a fruit, but you wouldn’t put one in a fruit salad.”

You chuckled with Dean, and the two of you sighed, just being quiet for a moment.

“You know, Dad felt awful having to come get me. He hates not being able to be there for you.”

“I would have thought he would have enjoyed being able to go back to his girlfriend,” you snarked, knowing you were being petty and mean, but not caring.

“Ewww. Please don’t say that. If you keep saying it, it might come true.”

You sat up and grabbed some tissues to blow your nose and clean off your face. “Well, then, tell me what you two came up with about that. He mentioned you two were talking about Jo and Rowena. So, he finally knows that you and Jo are together?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah. He was so relieved, too. I don’t know if it’s the age thing, or what, but he really didn’t like the idea of you and me being together! He’s much happier about me and Jo, though he worried about his mistakes with her dad causing problems. I told him they’re past it, so he should get past it, too.”

“That’s good, Dean. I’m happy for you.” You pinched Dean’s cheek until he slapped your hand away.

“Anyway, everyone is actively doing something to help get Rowena out on her own. Charlie’s working on getting her a new identity, Bobby is looking for a house for her, Dad’s trying to figure out what skills she has to earn a living, and everyone else is making up a list of jobs she might be qualified to do. It’s not easy. Apparently, ‘evil skank’ isn’t in a lot of job descriptions.”

“Good. The sooner she’s out of here, the better I’ll feel.”

Ellen knocked on your door, then, smiling when she saw you. “Glad you’re awake. Food’s on!”

Dean jumped from your bed with a huge grin. “Good! I was getting hungry!”

You took a moment to clean up a bit, then followed everyone else to the kitchen. For a moment, you just stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. Having everyone you’ve ever considered family, except your parents, sitting in one room and laughing with each other healed your heart. John stepped in behind you and put a gentle hand on your back, pulling you close to him and sending a thrill up your spine. He smiled when you looked up at him.

“You feeling better?” His eyes almost drew you in, encouraging you to get lost.

“Yeah. Thanks for getting Dean. He and Sam know all the tricks.”

John shrugged, then kissed your head, making you blush. “No problem, sweetheart. Just wish I could have helped more.”

A voice from behind you interrupted your moment. “Would it be possible for a wee lady to squeeze through here, dearies?” Rowena’s hand pushed between you and John, forcing you apart as she stepped in between you. “I’m so famished, I could eat a horse!” She turned to look at you, then reached up to push a stray lock of your hair out of your face. “There ya go, darlin’! You look like you had a good nap. I always say, the better the sleep, the worse you look at the end of it!” She squeezed your arm a little before moving off to the table to take her seat with John following behind.

A growl caught in your throat, and you bit your lip to keep from saying something that might turn out to be a spell. It would be frowned upon to turn her into a toad before dinner. Taking a deep breath, and then letting it out slowly, you found your place at the table and sat down, between your boys.

Everyone dug in quickly, expressing their appreciation to Ellen for another fine meal. Sometimes, you missed cooking, but not when you were eating something Ellen had made. When everyone was focused on their food, causing the noise to die down a bit, Rowena cleared her throat.

“I just wanted to thank everyone for bein’ so helpful today with tryin’ to find me a place in the world. I’ve done a bit of soul-searching, and I think I’ve figured out what it is I’m gonna do with this new life.”

Mumbled comments about no thanks being needed or curiosity about what she’d decided fell silent when she continued.

“I’m gonna be a hunter!”


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just... Rowena.

Three forks clattered onto plates after Rowena made her little announcement. Dean was the first to find his voice, though.

“You’re going to be a hunter?? How do you figure?”

“Well, I already know about all of your basic monsters, and I still remember a lot of my old witch contacts, so I figure I can be an invaluable resource to a band of hunters as yourselves. Just because my knowledge of spells was taken away from me, I’m not completely blind to the world. I still remember people and relationships, and I know a lot more people than you might think. I may have been in hiding for a couple of hundred years, but I didn’t bury my head in the sand.”

“Do you even know how to fight? How to shoot? What kills what?” Sam asked.

“Well, fighting and shooting are skills that can be learned, no? And I remember some basics of what kills what. I mean, I know I wouldn’t be able to hunt by myself right away. I was hoping that you all would be nice enough to train me. There’s no argument that the Winchesters are the best hunters in the world, so there would be nobody better to learn from.”

The thought of Rowena being at the bunker for months, if not permanently, caused a dull, throbbing pain in your skull. You picked up your fork and began eating again, trying to just keep your head down and let anyone else deal with her.

“You’ve been an evil skank for almost 400 years. What has you suddenly wanting to change your ways?” Dean demanded, scowling at the petite redhead.

“I wasn’t always a witch, you know. I mean, I always had the potential since I was a natural witch, but I didn’t always practice. Before I found witchcraft, I was an innocent girl, just trying to get along in the world. The desire for revenge on those who had hurt me pulled me into the craft, and once you’re in, it darkens you the longer you practice. I practiced for 350 years, so you can imagine the effect it had on me. Now that it’s lifted, I feel lighter than I have since before my son was born. I regret many of my actions as a witch, and I’d like to make up for them by doing as much good as I can in my new mortal life.”

You frowned, feeling eyes landing on you, now that you had everything Rowena claimed made her evil. What if she was right? What if embracing your new reality made you go dark side? Was that what Crowley was hoping would happen? You glanced around, part of you wanting to see whose eyes were on you, part of you dreading it. John was looking at you, but instead of being repulsed, as you had expected, he looked worried, his brow furrowed. Your heart lifted for just a moment, before it fell again at the thought that Rowena might be right.

Your appetite suddenly lost, you pushed away your plate and got up to leave. “Congratulations, then, Rowena. The burden has been lifted. Enjoy your second chance.”

Footsteps behind you didn’t catch up to you until you were at your bedroom door. “Y/N, wait up! I’m too little to keep up with you, you redwood!” Charlie exclaimed.

You stopped when you got to your door, waiting until she was right behind you before going inside. Once inside, you shut the door behind you both and flopped onto your bed with a ragged sigh. Burying your head in your pillow, you tried to block out the frantic thoughts Rowena’s little speech had created in your mind.

“I don’t know much about witches, but I know I’m going to start doing research to find out if what she said is true. At least in Oz, there were good witches, and I believe you will be a good witch, too, Y/N.” Her hand was rubbing your back, and you tried to ground yourself in her words and her touch.

“I need to talk to Crowley. I need to know if he planned for me to go dark side.” You dialed Crowley’s number on your phone, but it went to voicemail. Sighing in frustration, you shot off a text asking him to call you sooner rather than later. Charlie did her best to cheer you up, but in the end, only answers would make you feel better. The two of you headed into your new workroom and started digging into the books. Somewhere, there had to be an explanation.

When everyone else was finished with dinner, everyone but Rowena stopped by to check on you. John just squeezed your shoulder and mumbled something about getting you fixed right up, which put a shiver down your spine. John then said he’d keep Rowena busy teaching her how to shoot before he left the room. You stared at his back as he retreated, wondering what happened to the closeness you’d felt with John during the hunt with Crowley.

Charlie, Dean, Sam, and Jo all hung out for a few hours that night, going through the books looking for confirmation or contradiction of Rowena’s claims. Ellen and Bobby came and went, but both agreed that they had their doubts. Everyone knew that good witches existed, but no one knew what made them different from the bad witches. Was it as simple as nature vs nurture, or was it something different? No matter what, everyone was on board to find the answer.

Crowley didn’t get back to you for three days. In that time, every book in the bunker that had any mentions of witches was scoured, with no conclusive evidence either way. You had even called Cas, but he also wasn’t answering his phone. In the meantime, hunts came up and had to be worked. Dean declared that you were on witchy lockdown, which meant no spells, and no hunts, until an answer was found. The Winchesters took Rowena with them, and the Harvelles took Charlie, leaving just you and Bobby in the bunker.

As the Winchesters packed to leave, you gave each of your boys a hug and a kiss on the cheek, giving them your usual goodbye plea for them to be safe. John stood in line after Sam, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on your head. John made you feel completely safe, and you melted into his embrace, savoring the feeling of his hand cradling your head. He held you for a long time, and when he finally let go, he cupped your head and looked you in the eyes as he said, “I know we’ll figure this out. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you’re too good to ever go bad. We’ll fight this if we have to, no matter what.” He stroked your hair and then kissed your forehead. “Hang in there, sweetheart. We’ll be back again to help out before you know it.”

Before you could offer a word of thanks or affection in response, Rowena strutted in, struggling a little under the weight of her bag. Without her heels, she looked even tinier than usual, her boots only giving her an extra inch of height. “I’m here!” she called out, her voice shrill like a dagger into your skull. “I wasn’t sure what to pack, but dear John helped me to decide. I think I may have still packed a bit too much, but it’s best to be over-prepared, right?”

Dean grabbed Rowena’s bag from her and tossed it in the trunk of the Impala before sliding into the driver’s seat. John gave you another quick kiss on the head as he got in behind Dean, Rowena sliding in beside him from the passenger’s side. As the car pulled out, the boys and John waved, but you heard Rowena’s voice through Dean’s open window, demanding attention and taking John’s gaze from you. With a sigh, you went back to the library and your research.


	49. 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1999 - You're ready to try to move on without the Winchesters again.

_1999_

_It’s the year Prince had sung about, and everyone was afraid of the computers instead of the real monsters. You were thirty years old, and your biological clock had suddenly made itself known, partly because the world itself couldn’t stop talking about time. It was the calendars that had caused the problems. The calendars and laziness. Time had slipped by while no one took the time to think about how using a simple shortcut could make the world’s power grids fail._

_In your personal life, you were suddenly struck with the knowledge that the calendar was flipping by fast, and you’d been too lazy to plan a future for just yourself. You’d finally stopped flinching when hunters invited you back to their motels, but you hadn’t said yes, yet. The first few months after you’d left Pete were filled with trying to explain away your absence without admitting how stupid you’d been. Then, you’d spent time rebuilding your confidence, both on the job and in your personal life. Finally, you were in a good place. Finally, you were looking at the men around you and wondering if you should make a move. That was the first step in quieting that urge for kids, right? Find a man to have them with._

_That’s when you found George._

_George wasn’t a hunter. You were too burned by Pete to ever consider a hunter for anything more than a night ever again. George was the recipient of a cursed bread box, of all things. He’d bought it from an antique store as a wedding gift for his cousin, but thankfully you convinced him not to give it to her before it could kill anyone else like it had killed the previous owner and his family. The Maxwells had all died of apparent poisoning, but no poison was found in their system. There were no marks on the bodies, no forensic evidence of foul play, and that’s how you’d come across the case. Apparently, the bread box turned whatever you put inside of it into poison. You had identified the box as the culprit before it was sold, hoping you could break in that night and destroy it, but George got to it, first. It took you a while to prove to him you weren’t nuts, but he finally believed. Okay, a finch may have had to die to prove it, but he believed._

_To thank you for saving the lives of an untold number of his family members, he took you out to dinner. He asked you about hunting and told you about the kids he taught at the local high school. He was completely different than John or Pete or any other man you’d ever known. His brown eyes were warm and inviting, his blonde hair shining in the candlelight, and he made you laugh. You hadn’t laughed like that since the last time you’d seen your boys, and you just missed it. In short, he swept you off your feet._

_When you crawled into his bed, he was gentle and patient, understanding when you told him you were a little gun shy after a bad relationship. He took things slow with you, and when you were finally ready, he worked hard to make sure you felt good, too. There weren’t any sparks, like you’d heard about in romance novels, just a steady warmth that was so overwhelmingly comforting. In his little house, in his little town, with his grandmother’s quilt on the bed and the local church just down the street, you felt safe and secure. George and his life were a haven of sweet, quaint normalcy in a world that that was anything but. Falling in love with it all was easy._

_George understood that you had to hunt at least every now and then to take the edge off. He called you his wild child and packed you lunches for the road. You called him every night to say goodnight when you were away and listened to his stories about what he was planting in his garden or whatever his kids at school had done while you cleaned your sidearm or salted your windows. The two of you made plans to take a trip together over the summer while he was on break, so you could show him some of the wonders of the world that you knew. You were excited to take him to meet Bobby and show him some of the places you’d seen when you were young and traveling with your parents._

_You just had to finish this hunt, and then you could go back to George and start your vacation. You refused to hunt while George was with you, so you were looking forward to taking an actual vacation. Instead of seeing the Badlands because you were on your way to Bobby’s, you’d see them because you were showing them to the man you loved. The man you thought you might be able to settle down with. Maybe you could settle your biological clock and fill the holes your boys had left when they grew up and didn’t need you anymore._

_Mentally planning every stop of your trip, you raced to get to George’s house, hoping to surprise him by coming home a day early. You couldn’t wait to crawl into bed with him and show him how much you appreciated him understanding you and waiting for you. He put up with so much by not trying to stop you from hunting. He patched you up when you came to him bloody and healed your soul when you felt like a hunt had broken you. He was everything you could ever want._

_Apparently, he was everything his next-door neighbor could want, too._

_The door slammed shut behind you, which startled the two lovers on the couch. Fear filled George’s eyes as he saw you reach for your gun, but you only rested your hand on it, you never withdrew it. Anger rose up at the sight before you. The two of them were tangled up together, clothing strewn around the room, and George’s cock was trying valiantly to stay alive in spite of the sudden coldness of the air. Your anger didn’t even last as long as his erection, though. You deflated at once, dropping your hand from your waistband and your head landing on your chest._

_Just because he wasn’t a hunter didn’t mean he was a good guy._

_You waved at the couple half-heartedly as George tried to explain how it wasn’t what it looked like and she didn’t mean anything. The slut’s smug remarks about how maybe he wouldn’t have needed her if you’d stayed home like a good woman instead of gallivanting around with your mysterious job washed over you like water off a duck. Your heart rate was surprisingly calm as you quickly packed your things, the cacophony of George’s pleas and what's-her-name's derisive comments fading into the background as you realized that there wasn’t much there for you to pack. The duffle in your hand wasn’t even full when you turned away from the fighting couple, both of them still half naked as they turned on each other in the face of your indifference._

_Driving off into the night, you wondered why you weren’t more upset. George had been everything you thought you wanted, everything you thought you needed. Honestly, you were more depressed about the loss of what could have been. The child you could have had, with George’s eyes and your hair. Maybe it would have been a girl. What would you have done with a girl, anyway? Jo was the closest thing to a girl you knew, and you’d never managed to connect with her like you had Dean and Sam. You raising a girl would have been disastrous. When you reached Bobby’s and explained why you were alone, you didn’t even cry. The old hunter filled an extra glass with hunter’s helper and shoved it across the table for you._

_“Well, then, good riddance to bad rubbish,” he said, toasting you and downing his glass in one gulp._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked for an electric company during the whole Y2K scare, so was inundated with stories about what could happen. Even though I was only in customer service, I was on call that night. Everyone was on call that night. I'm pretty sure I held my breath for almost five minutes after the ball dropped, waiting for the Zombie Apocalypse, and when nothing happened, it was almost a letdown. The funniest part of the whole thing was the branded morale-boosting toys the company gave us during the prep stages. The most memorable was a flashlight. I looked at my supervisor and said, "This doesn't fill me with confidence, ya know?" LOL!


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally answers his phone, and your biggest question.

When Crowley finally showed up, it wasn’t because he finally had a free moment, but because you’d finally texted him the magic words.

> You: _You need to call me ASAP. It’s about your mother!_

Crowley appeared standing next to you in the library less than a minute after you hit Send.

“How could that ginger whore still be a problem when my demon dropped her in the middle of the damn forest! How is she even still alive? I thought she’d be bear scat by now!”

You stood up against Crowley, putting all the frightened energy you’d been saving up for three days into every word you said. “He did drop her in the forest. The one behind the motel where the Winchesters were staying. She stumbled out, and John felt sorry for her, so he took her in! Even if he hadn’t, you do realize that she doesn’t die easy, right? I mean, you’re the one who told me Lucifer snapped her neck, yet, _here she is!!_ She used magic to make herself damn near invincible, Crowley, and you should have seen this coming!”

Crowley’s face turned red as he watched you let loose all over him. When you were finished, you dropped back into your chair and held your aching head with a groan. Bobby rushed towards you, glaring at Crowley and grumbling something that sounded like “damned idjit.” You brushed him away, assuring him you were fine as best you could.

“I’ve just been so tense for the past three days, trying to find an answer and worrying about everyone, Bobby. A couple of aspirin and I’ll be fine.”

Bobby stood up and squared off in front of Crowley. “You did this to her, and if it hurts her, so help me God, I will shoot your ass so full of rock salt you’ll never sit again!”

Bobby left with a huff to find you some aspirin and Crowley sat down next to you.

“Now that you’ve let off a little steam, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?” Your head popped up from your hands and you glared at Crowley, but he put a hand up to stop you before you blew up again. “No, I understand that my mother is a concern, especially if she’s sucking up to Daddy Winchester, considering your feelings for the man. But something tells me she’s not what your guard dog is talking about.”

Bobby walked back in just in time to hear Crowley’s barb and growled at the demon as he passed him to hand you a glass of water and some pills. You tossed the pills into your mouth and downed half the glass of water, then rubbed your temples for a moment more while Bobby got resettled.

“It all comes back to your mother, anyway. So, she sucked up to John, he decided we couldn’t leave her alone in the world with half a brain, in spite of the fact that she’s 400 years old and can most definitely take care of herself. She has him convinced she can’t do anything without magic, so he’s taken her under his wing to help her learn how to live in the modern world. When we tried to find her a way of earning a living, she declared that she’s going to become a hunter.”

Crowley’s eyes widened in disbelief. When you nodded, he stood up and walked over to the decanter, pouring himself a stiff drink. “A hunter? She wants to battle monsters?”

You nodded, and Bobby said, “Yup. She thinks she can be an asset to ‘a band of hunters like ourselves’ because she _knows people_.” The clear look of disbelief on Bobby’s face was so comical you laughed.

“How could anyone here believe that all she wants is to battle monsters? Are they all daft?”

You shook your head. “Nobody bought it, until she said that her witchcraft made her evil, and now that it’s gone, she wants to make up for everything bad she’s ever done.”

“You can’t be serious?” Crowley asked, sitting back down next to you.

“Deadly. Which is why she’s on a hunt with the Winchesters, and I’m benched, going through every book in this place with even a mention of witches. You see, if the only thing that made her evil was her witchiness, and you gave it to me, then what does that make me?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t make you anything. Being a natural witch doesn’t make you evil. Just like being a hunter doesn’t automatically mean you’re good. It’s genetics, really. Natural witches have it in their physical makeup. It’s an inborn talent, like being able to sing or dance. It’s what you do with it that matters. There are spells that are darker, and they probably would darken your soul if you performed them. The more powerful the spell, the more likely it is to be dark. There’s a reason why the most powerful spell book in the world is called _The Book of the Damned_.”

Relief was beginning to flood your body. “So, I’m not going to go dark side just because I’m now a natural witch?”

Crowley scoffed. “You? I sincerely doubt it. Unless you start purposely looking for dark magic and using it for your own gain, you’ll be fine.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Bobby, who grinned right back at you.

“If anyone can keep on the good side, it’s you, Y/N,” Bobby said with a pat on your arm.

Your cheeks flushed, and you smiled at the closest thing you’d had to a dad in more than twenty years. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby smiled, then turned back to Crowley. “The boys ain’t gonna take your word on it, though. Any way we can back this up with a more trustworthy source?”

Crowley glares at Bobby. “You wound me, Robert. And after all we’ve meant to each other over the years.” He rolled his eyes and looked to you. “Your angel should be able to confirm this. I’m guessing he’s off with Chuck sorting out the flock upstairs, or you wouldn’t have called me.”

“Something like that. Now, the only problem we have is Rowena. Figuring out what she wants and making sure she doesn’t get it.”

Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “No problem. Just tell me where they are, I’ll pop in, grab her, and take her off their hands. If she can’t be killed, well, then, there’s plenty of places in Hell I can put her to keep her out of the way. It would be my pleasure, really.” Crowley’s smile was almost hungry, but it still made you smile in return. Bobby scoffed, though.

“Yeah, that’ll convince everyone that Y/N hasn’t gone dark side,” he said sarcastically. “They’ll all think she asked you to kill Rowena, which will just further prove Rowena’s point. They’ll fight you for her, I promise you, and then Y/N’ll be in the doghouse, for sure. That’s exactly what Rowena wants.”

You nodded. “Bobby’s right. She’s been sweet as pie since she got here, and only Charlie, Dean, and Sam really know how devious she can be. Everyone doubts her, but now that she’s given a reason for her turnaround, they doubt me, too. Until Cas can come and verify everything you’ve said, I have to be above reproach. Since we don’t know when that will be, we need to find a way for her to reveal herself or wait for her to trip herself up.”

Crowley shrugged. “It’s your call, my dear. Just know, whenever you’re ready, just give me a call and I’ll take her off your hands.” He stood up and straightened his suit, picking imaginary lint off his jacket. “I should be going. Things are better in Hell, these days, but it’s best not to leave things unattended for too long.” He brushed a lock of hair away from your face and you smiled up at him.

“Call me if you need me,” you said quietly, very aware that Bobby was watching your exchange.

Crowley nodded and then disappeared without a sound.


	51. 2002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2002 - John finds out how you earn pocket cash.

_2002_

_A couple of months into hunting with John and Dean, you finally ran out of cash. John had been paying for rooms and food with his stolen cards, so you hadn’t needed to use your own cash for more than the occasional breakfast run. You’d tried to pay a few times, but John always snagged the check first or jumped out of the car to book a room so fast your head would spin. There were still a few things you bought for yourself, though, and it was always good to have cash on hand if the cards were declined._

_As usual, John bought your first round, and you sat with him and Dean while you drank it, going over the hunt you’d just finished and talking about the hunt you were headed towards. John stood up to get another round, but you put a hand over your glass._

_“No more for me,” you said, taking a look around the bar for a possible mark. “I’ve got some business to take care of.”_

_John looked confused, glancing at Dean to see if he knew what you were talking about, and it was obvious that Dean did. He looked back at you with a question in his eyes, so you motioned around the bar with your head while you tied your flannel at your waist to accentuate your ass._

_“You know, business? Don’t worry! I’ll be around,” you said as you stood up, patting his arm as you passed him._

_You headed to the end of the bar that was closer to the pool tables and leaned against it, making sure to stick your ass out a little bit while you fidgeted. You gave the bartender a flirty look, making sure to touch him on the arm when you thanked him for your drink. Next, you headed over to the jukebox, swaying your hips to the music that was already playing while you looked over the selections. You picked a song with a good beat to it, even though it wasn’t one of your favorites, and started dancing to it by yourself, taking sips of your drink and watching the men gathered around the pool tables._

_The bar was pretty back-woods, the only women in the place obviously attached to men, except for you. Eyes soon started tracking your movements as you wandered back to the bar for another drink. Instead of sitting, you kept standing, pushing your ass out a little, arching your back a little, leaning on the bar in just the right way so your boobs nearly popped out of your low-cut shirt. When the bartender had served you once again, you turned around and leaned against the bar, eyeing up the group at the pool tables again._

_It took a while, but finally, you got to see the eyes you’d felt when your back was turned. Of the three guys glancing your way, only one didn’t have a woman on his arm. He was a little taller than you, still shorter than Dean, with messy dark hair and dark eyes. He didn’t even try to hide how his eyes kept going up and down your frame, stuttering when you pushed your boobs out a smidge more or met his glance._

_One encouraging smile, and he was by your side, introducing himself and running a light finger up and down your arm. Two minutes later, he was introducing you to his friends and offering to teach you how to play pool. After an hour, his hands had touched almost every part of you while he explained shot after shot. By the time you’d ‘won’ one game and started putting money down, he was whispering dirty plans in your ear and pressing a mildly impressive erection into your hip._

_After another ‘lucky’ shot put the eight ball in the corner pocket, thus winning you yet another game and another $100, he kissed you and then mumbled in your ear, “Grandad over there has had his eyes on you all night, darlin’. You know him?”_

_You glanced over at John, and sure enough, he was shooting daggers at your date._

_“He’s my boss. We’re in town on a job this week, and he probably doesn’t like me fraternizing with a local.” A shrug and a kiss covered your lie, since the plan was to leave at dawn the next morning. You gave him your most innocent smile and booped his nose. “But you’re just so adorable, I can’t resist you!” You let out your most vapid giggle then frowned. “I’m gonna have to go back to the motel with him tonight, but I know I can ditch him tomorrow night and meet you?” Cue wide eyes, pouty lips, and hips grinding slightly against his._

_“Yeah, baby, we can do that,” he replied with a slimy grin, pressing his erection into your hip again. “I can’t wait for you to get a load of what I’ve got for you,” he growled._

_Licking your lips, you gave him an encouraging nod. “I’m sure you’ll take real good care of me, baby.” Leaning in, you whispered in his ear. “I’ll be thinking about you taking care of me when I’m stuck in that room with my boss.” You patted his chest and backed away, grabbing the chalk and rubbing it over the end of your pool cue while you gazed into his eyes._

_He groaned, actually groaned, and adjusted himself in his pants without caring who saw._

_“Now, you still haven’t taught me how to do that thing you did when you started the game. What was it called, cracking?” Cue more wide eyes and innocent smiles._

_“Breaking, honeybunch. It’s called breaking. Here, let me rack ‘em up for ya.”_

_By the time you headed back to the motel, you had $300, and your boy had blown his load in his pants when you ground against him in the alley as a goodbye present. You held yourself together until you were out of his sight, then let out a shudder. Yeah, he wasn’t too bad looking, which was why you’d let him get as far as he had, but his breath had been revolting. If it weren’t for that, maybe you’d have considered getting yourself a room of your own._

_No, you wouldn’t._

_It had been two months, and every time you got close to thinking about giving yourself some release from the tension John was causing you by just existing, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t pretend that some other guy was what you wanted when John was there, being everything you could ever want. It just felt wrong._

_Opening up the motel room door, you steeled yourself for dealing with John sleeping in the bed next to you once again. So close, and yet so far away._

_The lights were on and John was sitting up on one of the beds watching television._

_“Where’s Dean?”_

_“You were halfway through your first game when a girl came in. Pretty sure he went home with her,” John grunted._

_You shrugged and took off your flannel, balling it up and shoving into your duffel with a grimace. As you were pulling out clean pajamas, thinking about scrubbing the feel of not-John off your skin, John interrupted your thoughts._

_“I figured you were probably gone for the night, too. You looked pretty chummy with that guy.” His eyes were glued to the TV screen, his voice almost deadpan in how chilly it sounded._

_The grimace was back as you groaned. “Ugh, no. Chummy is the price I pay for being a woman when I hustle pool. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do for pocket cash, though. Can’t depend on credit cards for everything.” Before he could respond, you were in the bathroom, letting the water warm up._

_The shower felt wonderful, and your mood was greatly improved once you stopped smelling like what’s-his-name. When you left the bathroom, the TV was off, but John was still sitting on the bed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His expression was angry, and you wondered what you’d done this time to set him off._

_He was silent until you were crawling into the other bed._

_“From now on, you do all the paperwork for the cards we use and leave the hustling up to me and Dean. You can get more money for us with the cards than with hustling, anyway, and if you need cash, just let us know.”_

_Before you could answer, he was rolling over to face away from you, settling in to go to sleep. That didn’t stop you, though._

_“Wait, are you telling me that I’m not allowed to hustle pool, anymore?” Should you be mad that he’s basically forbidding you to do something, or happy because the thing he doesn’t want you to do is flirt with other men?_

_The angriest sigh you’d ever heard happened in the other bed. “We’re a unit, now, and we need to start splitting jobs like this up, anyway. You know, how I always get breakfast and Dean always gets dinner and shit like that. Get into the habit of splitting up responsibilities, everything will go smoother.”_

_“Oh. Okay,” you mumbled. You cursed your foolish heart, which for one moment, had thought maybe John just didn’t like seeing someone else’s hands on you. Stupid, stupid heart._


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters return from the hunt, but something is a little different than when they left.

After Crowley’s exit, you turned to Bobby, just to see his fierce scowl.

“I don’t like how familiar he is with you, or how comfortable you are with him being familiar.”

Sighing, you replied, “I spent a week in a cage in Hell with the man. We got familiar.” You raised your eyebrows and shrugged, as if to say there was nothing you could do.

“Exactly how familiar did you get, young lady?”

Bobby’s fatherly disapproval made you smile. “Not that familiar, _Dad_ ,” you joked with a wide smile. “I may have been under a spell to make me love him and obey him, but it wasn’t that kind of love. We spent a week in a cell in Hell, we talked.”

“Have to admit, the King of Hell ain’t the worst dick to get his hooks in you.” Bobby frowned at the memories, then shrugged them off. “What do you talk about with the King of Hell for a week?”

“Well, first, we went over all of the spells I could list off the top of my head. Then, we talked about politics, religion, our childhoods, the different divisions of Hell, the different ways someone gets sent to Hell, and all the different ways that Hell can be mismanaged. He told me about what Rowena did to him when he was young, so I talked about my parents and maybe told a story or two about the boys when they were little. He told me about Gavin’s mother, and why he and Gavin hate each other. We exchanged opinions on a million different subjects since I didn’t need to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom. When I needed rest, since there was nothing for me to sleep on, he let me rest my head in his lap, and covered me with his jacket.”

Bobby grimaced and growled, taking a drink from his glass.

“I know, it sounds like a setup, and maybe it all was. But I stand by my decision to make my deal with him. Everyone I love is safe, so let Crowley do his thing, I’m not worried. We can handle it.”

“Well, I’m worried. I’m worried about you and your safety. You do have a knack for picking the worst men, sometimes, darlin’.”

“No worries, Bobby. I’m as safe as I’ve ever been.”

Bobby snorted. “Mooning after John Winchester ain’t much safer, if you ask me.”

Your eyes dropped to the table. “Well, if Rowena has her way, that won’t matter.”

“Well, then, I guess we just better find a way to boot her ass outta here!” Bobby started packing up the books the two of you had been looking through for information on witches.

“Bobby, I’m just the kid that babysat his boys. He will never see me that way. I want him out of Rowena’s clutches because I don’t want him to get hurt, and that’s it.”

The old hunter leaned against the table next to you. “You’re also the woman who saved his ass a time or two. You’re the woman who stuck with his boys through thick and thin, taking care of them in ways he couldn’t. You’re not nothin’, Y/N, and he knows it.”

Shrugging, you gathered up the rest of the books. “And he already married his soulmate. Now that she’s gone, everything else is probably just a pale imitation.”

Bobby harrumphed. “Soulmates are great, but don’t think that just because Mary was his soulmate that means he can’t find happiness with someone else. Not for nothin’, but Dean once told me their marriage wasn’t all rainbows and roses. They dealt with their fair share of problems, just like everyone else. Besides, she’s gone. You’re not.”

Sighing, you followed Bobby back to your workroom with an armful of books. “He had twenty-two years from the day he met me to the day he died to have me. Instead, he went after other women. Need I remind you of Adam?”

Bobby shrugged as he began putting books back on shelves. “I said he knows you’re not nothin’. Didn’t say he was smart enough to do something about it.”

As you were locking up your workroom for the night, you heard the bunker door squeal as it opened and then slammed shut.

“Hi, honey, we’re home!” Dean shouted in a sing-song voice.

You walked out towards the map room, giving a yell of your own. “Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!” you joked, doing a very bad imitation of Ricky Ricardo.

Dean laughed and pulled you into his arms, giving you a hug and kiss on your head. When he let you go, he looked around. “Ellen, Jo, and Charlie still out?”

“Yeah. Should be back tomorrow, though, so you won’t be missing your woman for long,” you teased. Looking behind Dean, you saw Sam scowling. When you followed his eyes, you saw why.

John was leading Rowena down the hallway towards the bedrooms, his arm tightly around her waist, and two bags hanging from his other shoulder. He hadn’t even said hello to you.

You stared at their backs until they disappeared, then muttered, “I’d consider going to Hell and visiting Crowley if it didn’t feel like I was already there.”

Sam put an arm around you and squeezed you. “Something happened. We don’t know what. All we know is, last night, he was the same way with her that he was when we left. This morning, he woke up acting like a lovesick teenager.”

Glaring at the empty hallway, you groused, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’d gotten her power back.” You turned into Sam and wrapped your arms around his middle. “If I have to watch them for too long, I’m gonna vomit.”

Sam rubbed your back. “We’re right there with you, Bigs.”

Dean and Sam led you back into the library and sat down. Once everyone had a glass in front of them, you told them about Crowley’s visit.

Dean frowned. “Well, I can’t say I trust Crowley farther than I can throw him, and I definitely want to check with Cas to see if what he said is true. Until we get confirmation from Cas, you’re still on witchy lockdown. No spells until we know more about this and stay in the bunker just to be safe.”

You frowned. “I’m dying to use a spell or two on Rowena, but I will behave. In the meantime, I might do some research to see if there’s a spell out there to reveal a spell. Maybe we can figure out what’s going on with your father.”

Dean swirled his glass. “It better be a spell, because if it’s not, we’ve got a big problem on our hands.”


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finally answers his phone.

The next few days were torture. Rowena found ways to rub her new relationship with John into your face and generally drive you crazy. When you walked into the library, she’d be sitting in his lap, giggling at his explanation of whatever they were reading. Walking into the kitchen, they’d be feeding each other. Impromptu movie night in the TV room meant they were giggling like teenagers and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. With every encounter, your heart broke a little more. Knowing John had been with other women, and even had a child with one, was one thing. Watching him actively pursue another woman right under your nose was sickening.

By the end of the second day, you stopped taking meals with the rest of the family. Ellen always made sure you had food, even though your appetite was almost nonexistent. Everyone knew that somehow Rowena had put a spell on John, but John refused to talk to anyone about it, and even getting him alone was nearly impossible, since Rowena was just always there.

Dean finally managed to get John alone by trapping him in the bathroom. When confronted with the idea that his feelings for Rowena might be a spell, John blew up. Even halfway across the bunker, you heard his words echoing through the hallways.

“How dare you say I don’t know my own mind, boy! She’s a fine woman who deserves some care after a lifetime of being treated badly! We’re together, now, and if you can’t accept it, then we can always leave!”

Sitting in your workroom, listening to John’s words, tears escaped from your eyes. The thought of running away appealed to you, but you couldn’t leave your boys. The thought of John leaving with Rowena was even more abhorrent. You had to figure out what was going on.

You’d found a powerful spell to reveal any spell, but it required one ingredient you didn’t have: an angel feather. Several times a day, you prayed to Cas, asking for a phone call or a feather, whichever was easier, but your prayers went unanswered. So, you turned to trying to figure out what spell Rowena had cast. All the spells you had found so far required either ingredients Rowena didn’t have access to since you’d locked them up or something like the pendant Crowley had used on you. After talking it over with Dean and Sam, you were sure John wasn’t wearing any new jewelry or accessories, so it had to be a spell you hadn’t found, yet.

One night, as you sat in your workroom all alone, eating cold macaroni and cheese, despair overtook you. You’d never been one to actually pray, especially since you’d learned that God was real and not listening, even more so since God had left hair on the soap in the shower, but your heart reached out, anyway.

_Chuck, I know this is stupid, but it all hurts so much right now, this is all I can do. Crowley made me a witch by taking Rowena’s powers from her and giving them to me. I’m so afraid that I’m going to become exactly what I’ve hunted all these years. And now Rowena has done something to John, but I can’t prove it without Cas’s help. I know Cas is busy helping you fix Heaven, but can you please send him down here for just a few minutes, or even let him just call? I just don’t know what to do, anymore._

You dropped your fork into the bowl of cold pasta and lay your head on your desk, pillowed by your arms. A yawn escaped you, and you were nearly asleep when you heard the light sound of feathers.

“Y/N?” a coarse voice asked from behind you.

“Cas!” you squealed, jumping up from your seat and embracing your favorite angel. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve been getting everyone’s messages, but I haven’t been able to respond. Chuck told me to take a few minutes off and come down to help you.” Cas’s arms were stiff around you, uneasy as ever with your physical affection. He pushed you away from his chest, holding your upper arms while he looked you over. “Your new powers become you, Y/N. I look forward to seeing the good you can accomplish with them,” he said with a smile.

“So, I won’t turn evil?” you asked, your voice wavering with your fear.

Cas smiled. “Crowley was correct. He didn’t lie. You’ll be fine, as long as you avoid the darker spells and doing anything for personal gain. All magic has a price, and your soul’s goodness can be that price when magic is mishandled.”

Your face felt like it split in half with your grin. “Really? I’m okay?”

Cas nodded. “You’re better than okay, Y/N.”

With a whoop, you jumped up and embraced Cas again, jumping up and down in his arms. “Thank you so much, Cas!!” You grabbed his hand and began dragging him to the kitchen. “Now we have to tell the others!!”

The two of you ran down the hall, Cas only running to keep up with you. You slid into the kitchen just in time to see John placing a chaste kiss on Rowena’s mouth. Your good mood was immediately shattered as you came to a sudden stop. Everyone else in the room looked at you and winced. Geez, did everyone know?

Cas nearly bumped into you from behind after your sudden stop, and he stepped around you. Dean and Sam greeted him happily, getting up to give him hugs and slap him on the back. The boys then took places standing on either side of you, just in case you needed support.

“Nice to see you again, angel face,” Jo said while Charlie jumped up to hug Cas, as well.

“It is good to see you, Cas,” Charlie said, “but before we catch up, let’s clear up this mess about Y/N going dark side.”

The room got quiet, except for John and Rowena, who seemed to be in a world to themselves. Rowena was casting nervous glances at the angel, but John was too wrapped up in Rowena to even see that anyone had walked into the room.

“Being a natural witch is now part of Y/N’s genetics. It has nothing to do with her soul. As long as she doesn’t stray down a dark path, performing dark spells or using magic for her own gain, she will remain as light and bright as she has always been.”

Everyone’s attention snapped from Cas to Rowena, who giggled coquettishly. “What? Like I was supposed to know that? What I know is that I was good until I started practicing.” Rowena shrugged her shoulders and strived to look innocent. “How was I to know the difference?”

John was acting like he hadn’t even heard the conversation, making it seem even more like he was under a spell. Cas took a step towards the couple as everyone else shifted away.

‘I’d say you would be the first to know the difference, as you were once a high-ranking member of the Grand Coven. I would think there would be a lot of things you would know.” Cas’s voice was menacing as he got closer to Rowena.

Before anyone could explain to Cas why Rowena might actually not know, John seemed to come to life. He suddenly noticed Cas approaching, and turned towards the angel, standing up to keep Rowena at his back. “What’s your problem, Castiel? She hasn’t done anything to hurt anyone!”

Cas tilted his head and squinted at John. “Then remove your wedding band and prove it.”

John looked horrified. “Why would I need to take off my wedding ring? And why should I listen to you??”

“Because I can see the enchantment on it from here,” Cas replied, calmly.

Gasps erupted from around the room as everyone got up from the table and crowded onto your side of the room, as far from Rowena and John as they could get. Cas was now standing two steps in front of you and the boys, facing down the ex-witch with righteous fervor. A wave of his hand, and John’s wedding ring vibrated on John’s finger before finally dislodging itself and flying across the room with enough force to embed it in the wooden pantry door.

The force of the spell being removed sent John flying to his side onto the floor. As his head cleared, you saw tears well in his eyes as he looked around the room in shock. His eyes met yours and his hand covered his mouth.

Rowena, finally deciding to give up the charade, stood up and glared at the crowd in front of her, then focused on you. You realized what she was about to do a fraction of a second before she did it.

As Rowena pulled something out of her pocket to throw it at you, you raised a hand and yelled, “ _Desino!_ ”

Rowena froze, unable to move, her arm arched to throw the hex bag in her hand. She growled out her frustration, but you didn’t care. Everyone behind you took another step back, while you stepped forward, anger filling you with courage.

“How dare you take the kindness these people have shown you, the second chance they have given you, and throw it in their faces!” You stepped closer still until you were towering over the tiny frozen woman, making her strain her eyes to look up at you. “How dare you take the welcome that was offered and then threaten them! They gave you food, they gave you clothing, they gave you shelter, and kindness, and all the tools you would need to start a new life, and you wasted it all! You had a clean slate, Rowena. No one chasing you. No one trying to kill you. You had an infinite number of possibilities set before you, but you chose to come after me, anyway. Instead of letting it go and using it to your advantage, you threw it all away just to hurt me.”

Plucking the hex bag from her hands, you set it in your open palm, hovering in front of her face.

“ _Incendiarum_ ,” you muttered quietly, watching the bag turn into ash in your hand. Carefully, you emptied Rowena’s pockets, finding several more hex bags and incinerating them, too. When you were sure she had nothing else on her, you stepped away.

“I would have let you go. I would have let you leave here and do whatever you wanted. I wouldn’t have touched you, even if you had sought out the Grand Coven and relearned all that Crowley took from you. But now, _now_ , you’ve hurt my family. Again.” Pulling out your phone, you dialed Crowley. “You’re done, Rowena.”

Crowley picked up the phone. “Yes, my pet?”

“Your mother is ready whenever you are.”

“Ah! Thank you, my dear,” Crowley said, appearing in the doorway a moment later. He strolled over to where his mother was still frozen, reminding you of the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz, only able to move her eyes and grunt. Crowley smiled. “Oh, Mother. What shall I do with you, now? So many levels of Hell, so little time. Oh, that’s right! I have all the time in the world!”

Crowley bowed his head in deference to you, then put his hand on Rowena’s shoulder and they both disappeared. Your entire body slumped as the tension drained out of you, and your boys rushed to your side again to support you. You waved them off, rubbing your forehead and shaking your head for a moment.

Everyone else in the room started moving, then, some going to help John, others coming to check on you. You waved them all off with a weak smile. When your thoughts settled, you walked over to where John’s ring was sticking out of the wooden door and gazed at it. With a wave of your hand, you muttered the removal spell that had worked on the jewelry Crowley had given you, watching the ring flash as the spell was removed. Once it was safe, you plucked it out of the door.

With the ring in hand, you walked over to where John was now standing, holding it out to him. He stared at you with wide eyes, not moving or saying anything.

“It was beyond wrong of her to use this ring, this symbol of your love for Mary, to tie you to her. I’ve removed the spell, so it’s safe to wear again. I’m sorry if it got scratched or anything….” You realized you were babbling and shut your mouth, your eyes focused on the ring in your hand because you couldn’t look at John.

John took the ring from your hand, and you immediately turned around and walked out of the room, suddenly too exhausted to talk to anyone or do anything but crawl into your bed and rest. When you were safely under your covers, you sent up a prayer to Cas thanking him for everything before closing your eyes and trying to go to sleep.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your boys comfort you and you try to figure out what your life will be like from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I'm less than 100 away from my next follower celebration on Tumblr. If I get there, I will be taking requests for timestamps for this story. Is there a part of the boys' lives you wonder how Bigs would fit into? Think about it, and when I start my celebration, you'll get to chance to ask! (I'm @mrswhozeewhatsis over there, too, in case you didn't know.) ♥

At some point in the night, you were jostled awake by the bed dipping around you. Before you knew what was happening, you were surrounded by your boys.

“What’s going on, guys?” you muttered sleepily, rubbing your eyes to try and get them to open.

“Go back to sleep, Bigs. We just don’t want you sleeping alone tonight after everything that happened,” Sam said, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah. We know how you get nightmares after days like today, so we’re here to stop ‘em,” Dean said with a gentle smile.

You looked back and forth between them both and smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

Sam set himself up as little spoon to your big spoon, and Dean pressed his back up against yours. You fell back to sleep in minutes.

Since you were finally cleared of the worry about going dark, and there wasn’t a hunt on the horizon for you, you decided to spend the next day starting your witch’s journal. You holed yourself up in your workroom, writing down everything that Crowley had stuffed into your head, and planning your new life as a witch. Just about everyone stopped by at some point during the day just to say hi and chat for a bit, but you were too focused on your work to be distracted for long. You emerged for dinner, and laughed at everyone’s jokes, but didn’t say much, yourself. John seemed to be the same way, quiet and distracted, and you chalked it up to the aftereffects of Rowena’s spell. Since you had been under a similar spell, you knew the effects it could have on your psyche. There were still times where you wondered if something you were feeling was real.

Your mind wandered for a moment as you watched John listening to Dean telling a story. He had kissed Rowena right there the night before. He’d been under her spell for days. What else…? You pushed the thought away before you even finished it, not wanting to know. Besides, it didn’t matter. Even if he hadn’t been under a spell, you had no claim on him. He had every right to do whatever he wanted to do.

After dinner, Bobby joined you in your workroom, though you weren’t sure why. He asked you general questions about what you were doing and what your plans were, but you suspected he was beating around the bush a bit.

“Bobby, I’m happy that you’re so interested in what I’ve got going on, but why are you really here?” You raised your eyebrows as you frowned at your surrogate father, hoping he’d just come out with whatever it was.

Bobby stammered a little, but then sighed. “Now that Rowena’s gone and the cat’s out about Dean and Jo, when are you gonna come clean with John about how you feel about him?”

Giving Bobby a stern look, you replied, “Never. I’ve kept it a secret for thirty-three years, it can stay a secret for thirty-three more. I don’t need to hear all the reasons why he doesn’t feel the same way about me. If he ever felt that way about me, Adam wouldn’t have existed. And if I was going to open my big mouth, I would certainly wait a while, since he just got out of a spell-induced relationship and is probably feeling a bit unsteady right now. But that’s all a moot point, since _I’m not going to_.”

Effectively dismissing the older man, you focused back on your work, checking over ingredient amounts in the spell you were writing down.

Bobby huffed in annoyance. “You’ve been in love with his ass for over two-thirds of your life, and finally, there’s nothing keeping you apart. There’s no demon, no death, no spell, hell, no nothing standing between you, and you aren’t even going to _try??”_

“That’s right, Bobby.”

“You know, I have heard some crazy stupid in my life, but this beats ‘em all.” He shook his head and stood up, almost slamming the chair he’d been sitting in against the table.

Your voice raised as you met Bobby’s stubborn streak with your own. “Bobby, he will never see me like that, and the way we are now is okay with me. I will always be just the babysitter to him. Not to mention, I’m now a monster, just like what he hunts. It’s one thing to share the bunker with me, or even hunt with me, but John Winchester will _never_ share more than the occasional beer with a witch!” You pinned Bobby with your glare. “And, let’s say I push it. I decide to bare all and tell him that I’ve loved him for over thirty years, and he tells me what I already know. Suddenly, we can’t work together anymore. We can’t _live_ together anymore. Suddenly, I’m out on my ass, back to hunting alone, living off texts and occasional phone calls from my boys.” Tears began to choke you, but you had to keep going. “No, Bobby. I can’t do that again. No matter what shit I’ve had to wade through, it was all worth it because I got to spend it with my boys. I can’t leave them. So, no. I’m not telling John. It’s too big of a gamble with odds that fucking suck.”

A couple of errant tears fell from your eyes, spotting your journal. You dropped your gaze to the work in front of you, wiping your eyes so that no more tears would blur the words you were writing. Bobby moved to stand behind you, dropping his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I wasn’t thinking of it like that. I won’t ask again.” Bobby’s lips met the back of your head as he squeezed your shoulders to comfort you, and then he was gone.

Quiet fell in the room, and you worked to settle your emotions. In the back of your mind, you wondered what exactly would have to happen for you to admit to John how you’ve felt all these years, but you squashed the thought. It wasn’t going to happen, so you weren’t going to torture yourself by thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... I'm sorry?


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though you're giving him space, SOMEHOW, you end up going shopping with John and run into an old, well, friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have successfully adulted when I really didn't feel like it! To celebrate, have an extra chapter!

Over breakfast the next day, you chatted with Ellen about making a trip into town together for supplies. Well, actually, you had talked with everyone at the table about heading into town by yourself, and Dean had put his foot down. You disappearing the last time you went somewhere by yourself was apparently still too fresh in his mind. Ellen said she needed some groceries, though, so you made a plan to head out that afternoon.

Ellen wasn’t who joined you in the garage, though. You were waiting by your car when John strode through the door, list in hand.

“Ellen said she wasn’t feeling so hot, so she sent me along to pick up what she needed,” John said as he walked towards you. He slowed his steps as he got close to you and shoved his hands in his pockets, ducking his head before looking up at you. “Is that okay with you?”

You took a deep breath to center yourself. “Sure. No problem. Where do we need to go?”

Ellen’s list was extensive and covered several stores. It wasn’t just a grocery list. You had thought that maybe you could just drop John off while you did your shopping, but it wasn’t meant to be. The first stop was the bookstore. Ellen wanted some trashy romance novels to read in her downtime, as well as some cookbooks. John stared at the romance novels and grimaced.

“Why do you women read this crap?” John asked, making a face at a drawing of Fabio on the cover of one of the novels you’d picked out.

“It’s an escape. There’re no monsters in these books, and everything is simple. The men are dark and dangerous in a way that is completely not dangerous, and they sweep the woman off her feet and shower her with luxuries. It’s a completely different world than what we actually live in, and it’s relaxing. They’re all basically the same, too. Girl is making her way in the world on her own with little to no family, starts working for man, man tries to resist her because he shouldn’t be schtupping his secretary, but after a while, he can’t help himself. There are obstacles, which they overcome, and they live happily ever after.”

John put the book in his hand back on the shelf. “You read this crap, too?”

“I used to. Gave it up a while back.”

John’s eyes burned through the back of your head as you turned away from him. “What made you give it up?”

“In my experience, the only thing that follows getting swept off my feet is a hard landing.”

The rest of the shopping was uneventful, until the last stop, which was your stop. The shop was a haven for hunters, and you’d made friends with the owner, Keith, the first day you’d met him. He was about as tall as Sam, but where Sam was all dark angles and strength, Keith was rounder and bright. Nordic blonde hair and blue eyes softened a face that was already made soft by a gentle, welcoming smile. Keith was nice, and you’d stayed overnight with him a few times in the four years since you’d met, but it was more of a ‘friends with benefits’ kind of deal, if anything. After your first night together, you’d mutually agreed it wasn’t really worth pursuing, but it was better than being alone. He knew the real you, so he was easy to talk to, and that was a blessing when you needed an unbiased opinion. You hadn’t seen him since before the big fight with Amara, and as you pulled up to the curb, you realized how you’d screwed up. At the time, you hadn’t known what would happen, so you’d all but said goodbye to Keith. And in the months since, with John taking up your almost every thought, you’d completely forgotten to call and let him know you were all right.

Pulling the handbrake and switching off the car, you looked at John and tried to sound nonchalant. “I’m going to be in there for a while, so if you want to take a walk around town, this might be a good time.”

“Actually, I’d love to come in and look around. I didn’t get to shop much in places like these before, so I’d love to see how they work and what they have in stock.”

You looked into the store window and saw Keith standing behind his counter, stocking boxes on a shelf, and sighed. _John doesn’t have a claim on you. Hell, he was dead when you met Keith. And why would John care, anyway? He doesn’t see you that way. There’s no reason for you to feel what you’re feeling right now. None at all._

Shrugging, you got out of the car, and heard John get out of his side, too. A passing car almost ran you over as you crossed the street, too distracted by everything else to look both ways properly. You managed to avoid becoming roadkill by dashing to the other side, hurrying to open the door.

“Y/N!!” Keith exclaimed with a bright smile, “you’re alive!!”

Before you could say anything, he had run around his counter and gathered you into an embrace, planting a kiss on your lips. In your surprise, you opened your mouth, and Keith took advantage, deepening the kiss as he nearly crushed you to his chest.

When Keith finally let you go, you were nearly gasping for air. He buried his face in your neck, muffling his words. “I was so worried, and when I didn’t hear anything, I just assumed the worst, you know?” He pulled away, grasping your upper arms firmly and looking into your eyes, pain and anger clouding them. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call?”

“I’m so sorry, Keith. Things have just been, well, weird. It’s a long story.” Knowing it would calm him, you stroked his hair as you looked up at him apologetically.

Keith leaned into your touch, as you knew he would, and sighed. “Fine. I’ll forgive you a few months of grieving, as long as you give me all the gossip.” His face broke into his signature bright smile, and he gave you another quick kiss before you knew what he was doing.

The kiss was interrupted by the stern clearing of a throat behind you. Keith sprang away from you, probably thinking whoever was behind you was a customer to be helped. Before he could say anything, you introduced the two men.

“Keith, this is John Winchester. John, this is Keith Parks. He owns and runs this place, and is a good friend of mine.”

When you turned to John, you almost lost your breath. John looked like he was about to take Keith apart piece by piece and scatter him to the four winds. When he finally smiled, the smile was not friendly, at all.

“Nice to meet you, Keith.” John extended his hand, and you felt Keith’s nerves as he accepted the handshake. Keith looked John up and down, his other arm still around you.

“Winchester? Related to Dean and Sam?” Keith asked.

John straightened, making himself almost as tall as Keith. “Their father, actually.”

Keith looked down at you with wide eyes. You’d told him stories about John, and Keith had guessed early on how you’d felt about the legendary John Winchester.

Keith looked down at you. “I’d heard that Bobby and Ellen were back. I figured if you were gone, then at least the boys had someone that could come close to replacing you.” He looked up at John. “Hadn’t heard you were back, too.”

You cleared your throat. “Well, John wasn’t as popular with a lot of folks before he died. He’s working on improving his reputation this time around.” You looked pointedly at John, who still looked mighty threatening.

John’s eyes finally left Keith and landed on you, meeting your glare, and then dropping, his body relaxing. “Yeah. I got a second chance, and I’m trying to make it work. The world has changed since I’ve been gone, and I have a lot of catching up to do.” He waved around the store, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m just gonna look around, give you two a chance to catch up.”

John was off into the bowels of the store before either you or Keith could say anything. When he was gone, Keith turned to you with eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry, baby! I didn’t see anything but you, and I was just so happy to see you and he’s supposed to be dead and it never occurred to me he’d be here and….”

You stopped his babbling with a finger over his lips. “It’s okay. Nothing’s changed as far as John is concerned.” Your hand dropped, and you took a deep breath. “I’ll always be the babysitter, so it’s okay. You didn’t break anything.”

Keith’s face fell, probably mirroring yours. “Then I’m even sorrier.” He pulled you into another crushing hug, but it felt so comforting, you didn’t care that you could barely breathe.

Catching up with Keith took longer than you had expected. You had to explain how you were now a witch, on top of how everyone had come back. You sat on his countertop, legs swinging nervously as you laid everything out for him. When you were done, he set his hands on your thighs, stilling your legs, and then lifted your chin with one crooked finger. “Hey, I’m still here, witch or not.”

Keith’s accepting smile warmed your heart, and you threw your arms around his neck happily. Your hug was broken up by a pile of books falling over in the back of the store, and you both ran to make sure John was all right.

John was standing in a pile of books that had scattered around his feet, his hands in the air defensively. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did, but suddenly everything was falling.”

You chuckled at John while you helped Keith pick everything up. “John, for a legendary hunter, you can be surprisingly like a bull in a china shop, sometimes.” The three of you cleaned up the mess, and then you pulled out your list and waved it at Keith. “I’m gonna go in back and do my shopping, okay?”

Keith nodded and smiled, waving you off. “You know where it all is. Come get me if you can’t find something or need something ordered!”

You were halfway through your list when you realized you’d left Keith and John alone together. Feeling panic rise in your gut, you rushed through the rest of your list to get back into the main store.

Apparently, there was no need to panic. John and Keith were having a conversation over the counter, both men smiling and chuckling at something. They didn’t even see you as you got close, and when you heard what they were talking about, you stayed back.

“What was she like as a teenager? She said she started watching Dean and Sam when she was, what, fifteen?”

John chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. Fifteen.” He scratched his beard and looked up at the ceiling, and you wondered what he saw in his memories. “A lot like she is now, only happier. She still had the world wrapped around her little finger, and nothing could stop her. I don’t know when it happened, or what made it happen, but somewhere along the way, she stopped believing she could beat anything. I mean, she still can beat anything, she just doesn’t believe it like she used to.” John’s voice lowered, but you could still hear his words. “That’s the one good thing I hope to see come out of this witch mess. I want to see her believe again. I want her to believe that she can do, say, and have anything she wants.” John’s gaze dropped, and his voice got even softer. “She deserves it. She deserves the world.”

Keith smiled and nodded, agreeing with John. Seeing how much the two men cared for you brought tears to your eyes. Carefully, you backed away from where you were standing, then approached again, this time stepping more heavily, and even hitting the creaky floorboard you normally tried to avoid.

“Okay, guys, I think I have everything,” you said as you approached, pretending to be too involved in your purchases to notice the two of them having their chat about you. You dumped everything onto the counter, setting everything upright for Keith to add up. When everything was packaged for you to take home, John grabbed the bags and headed out of the store with a wave to Keith. With a sigh to John’s back, you turned back to Keith to say goodbye.

“Darlin’, that man has got it bad for you. I don’t know what you’re afraid of, or why you’re not jumping on him, but whatever it is, forget about it.”

Sighing, you gave Keith your best bitch face. “He just lost his soul mate. For the second time. And I’m just the babysitter. Again. And I'm a witch, now. At best, I’m family. The… cousin he never wanted.”

Keith shook his head and chuckled. “No, darlin’. I mean it. He’s nuts over you. All you have to do is tell him how you feel, and then ride that stallion into the sunset.” He gave you a suggestive wink and eyebrow waggle that suddenly reminded you of Gabriel, but you pushed the resemblance aside.

“You’re delusional, Keith. I think that’s why I like you so much, though, so I think I’ll keep ya,” you said, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“I won’t expect to see you around here for more than shopping and talking from now on, though. Something tells me he’d find a way to make me disappear real quick if I touched you again.”

You smacked Keith in the chest playfully and scoffed. “Fine, whatever you say. You’re ridiculous, but whatever.” You kissed his cheek and waved as you said goodbye, then walked across the street to your car, checking traffic more carefully this time.

John didn’t say anything until you were back on the road. “Keith seems like a nice guy.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road. “He is. When Dean had the Mark, and when he was missing, Keith was good at letting me vent without trying to rush and fix things, not that he could. He’s a good friend.”

John let what you said sit in the air for a while before he responded. “Honey, friends don’t kiss friends like he kissed you when you first walked in,” he joked.

You chuckled. “Okay, then, he’s a good friend, and a good pressure valve. He thought I was dead, so he’s allowed to get a little, you know, overenthusiastic.”

John barked a laugh, his head falling against the headrest as his whole body shook. “Overenthusiastic? Whatever you say, sweetheart!”

You pulled into the bunker’s garage, and the two of you unpacked the car. “Well, you don’t have to worry about him being enthusiastic, anymore. He’s rescinded the benefits part of our friends-with-benefits agreement. Didn’t really say why,” you lied, not wanting to admit to what Keith had told you about John’s feelings.

John froze for a step, letting you take the lead into the bunker. From behind you, you heard him say, “I’m sorry. I know how much he means to you.”

You shrugged. “We’re still friends. It’s no biggie.”

Dean interrupted you, digging through the bags looking for pie. “Who’s still friends?”

“Me and Keith,” you replied, smacking Dean’s fingers as he tried to grab the pie from you.

“Why wouldn’t you still be friends with Keith? Keith’s awesome!” Dean said, successfully stealing the pie out of your hand and heading across the room with it.

John grabbed the pie from Dean when Dean had his eyes on you and held it up above Dean’s head, using his two extra inches to his advantage. “Because Keith broke up with her.”

Dean’s arms fell to his sides and his eyes bugged out as he turned to you. “Broke up with you? Since when were you dating?”

Your face flushed, heat rising to your cheeks so quickly and so hot you almost started to sweat. “We weren’t _dating_. We were… stress relief,” you said, ducking your head and going back to putting away supplies.

“ _Oh!”_ Dean cried, disgusted. “Ew! _No!_ I don’t wanna hear that! I don’t wanna know about your—” Dean stammered with a dramatic grimace, “— _stress relief_ or any of that shit, Bigs! Ew! No!” Waving his arms melodramatically, he left the room, completely forgetting the pie.

You turned to John and chuckled. “Wow. Found a way to save the pie! Who’d’a thought?”

John laughed, and you felt your heart race as you beamed back at him. _Maybe…._


	56. 2003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets Pete.

_2003_

_“You bitch.”_

_That voice, that tone, those words…. You hadn’t heard any combination of them in, what, five or six years? They still made you freeze in place, the laughter you’d been sharing with John and Dean dying quickly and lying flat on the table like a popped balloon._

_Pete slid into your peripheral vision when he approached the table, but you couldn’t make yourself look at him. You stared at the paper coaster underneath John’s beer, wishing you could do something, say something, do ANYTHING._

_But you couldn’t move._

_“Because of you, Bobby Singer has spread lies about me to every hunter in the fucking country!” Pete’s finger jabbed the air near your face, making you flinch. “Because of you, I couldn’t get help on a ghost clusterfuck in upstate New York and broke my damn leg!”_

_Dean was itching to leave the booth, but John was on the outside, holding him back. That didn’t stop his mouth, though._

_“If Bobby says you’re bad news, there’s a good reason for it, you dick,” Dean snapped, still squirming next to John, who was sitting almost as still as you were._

_John stilled Dean with a look you could only see out of the corner of your eye because you were still frozen. Your eyes had finally moved from the coaster, but you could only manage side to side movement, you still couldn’t raise them. As angry as you’d been when you left Pete, you’d put it all behind you, and now all you had was the shame of what you’d let him do to you. Fear that John and Dean would find out how weak and desperate you’d been without them kept you frozen in your seat, unable to look at them. Your mind raced to find the perfect argument that would send Pete away, and answers to the questions John and Dean would surely have._

_Before you could come up with anything to make Pete leave, John pulled out one of his Fed business cards and began writing on the back of it. “I’ve been on the wrong side of Singer, myself, so I know where you’re coming from.” John handed the card to Pete. “Next time you need backup, just call. Us rogues need to stick together, right?”_

_Shock and disbelief finally loosened your body and you stared at John with your jaw slack. He gave Pete his most charming smile, the one he gave disgruntled cops who didn’t want to share information, and Pete ate it up._

_“Well, that’s nice to hear! Glad to know not everyone’s up Singer’s ass, after all.” Pete pulled out his own business card and handed it to John. “Same to you. You need an extra hand and I’ll be there!”_

_The two men shook hands and Pete walked away without even a look in your direction._

_When he was finally all the way across the bar, almost out of sight as he approached some bikers playing pool, your body unfroze, and you let out all the air that had been trapped in your lungs. You heaved another breath right after, trying to get oxygen back to your brain so you could understand what just happened. John and Dean were both looking at you, worry all over their faces. It was too much. It was just too much._

_You drained your beer in one gulp, slamming the bottle on the table, and then headed for the door. You talked yourself through every step, doing everything you could to keep yourself together. ‘One step in front of the other. Breathe in, breathe out. Hands in pockets so no one can see them shake. Left, right, left, right, open the door, step through, let it close quietly behind you, keep walking around the corner, check for trouble, and then let it out.’_

_An inhuman noise ripped out of your mouth as you leaned against the wall. You slid down into a squat, dropping your head between your knees to try to stop the world from spinning. Every angry scenario you had imagined since the day Bobby had saved you from Pete ran through your mind, mocking you for your complete and utter inaction. You’d written fucking speeches to Pete, telling him what a worthless shit he was and how much better off you were without him, and yet, when you had the chance, you froze up!_ You kill fucking MONSTERS for a living, but you can’t tell off a fucking douchebag??? _You stood back up, letting out another feral scream and pounding your fists against the brick wall behind you._

_“Bigs? Bigs! Is that you?” Dean called for you from around the corner while he tried to follow the grunts and groans you were still making as you hit the wall. When he came into view, you turned away from him, not wanting him to see you this way. You were supposed to be the adult, the one who made things better for him, not someone else he had to take care of._

_Dean rushed to your side, and you tried to hide from him by facing the wall and covering your face with your hands. You were panting, now, trying to settle all the feelings that were threatening to erupt, most likely in tears, to your horror. You refused to cry over that asshole again, though, much less in front of Dean. You’d wasted enough tears on that mistake._

_“Bigs, what’s going on? Who was that guy? What’s wrong?” Dean pushed and pulled you until you were turned to face him, your hands in his so he could see the anguish on your face._

_You tried to school your features, taking another couple of deep calming breaths, staring into the freckled face that had given you so much love for almost twenty years. Dean’s worry sparked your own protective instincts, and you found yourself calming down, if only for him. Your mind cleared, and you were finally able to give Dean a small smile._

_You lifted your shirt, showing him the jagged scars across your stomach. “That was Pete. I hunted with him for a while back after Sam got too old for me to watch, anymore. He’s bad news, and these scars prove it.” You dropped your shirt and focused on telling the truth, while not telling the whole truth. “He makes mistakes and blames them on his partner. Every time. He always has to be in charge and doesn’t take direction from anyone. He nearly got me killed. That’s why Bobby blackballed him.”_

_Dean pulled you into his arms and held you for a long time._

_“I should have made Dad bring you with us. You could have been hunting with us instead of that dick, and then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt like that. I mean, I asked him, but I never really pushed. I should have pushed.”_

_Pulling away from Dean, you glared into his eyes and scolded him. “Dean Winchester, this is not your fault! Not everything in the world is your responsibility, least of all me! I’m a big girl, and I made a choice to hunt with that asshat, and I learned my lesson. It was MY mistake, Dean, not yours.”_

_Dean just had to argue, though. “Still….”_

_“No, Dean,” you snapped, wagging a finger in his face. “No. My fault. So, drop it.”_

_Dean nodded, finally giving in to your command. Taking his hand, you led him back inside, letting him go get another round while you headed back to the table. As you approached, you saw that John was on his phone._

_“Thanks, Bobby,” John said right before snapping the phone shut and putting it back into his pocket. He seemed a little startled when you sat down but covered it by emptying his beer._

_“Asking Bobby for the lowdown on Pete?” you asked, still a little nervous to question John, even after hunting with him for about a year. “I’m surprised you called, and even more surprised he answered, since you two have been giving each other the silent treatment, lately.”_

_John sighed and acknowledged the truth in your words. “Bobby answers because he knows you’re with me and he’s afraid not to. I called just to get the story on what’s-his-name. Wanted to know if he’s a danger to hunt with, or just a jackass like me.”_

_You rolled your eyes but sighed. “I could have told you not to hunt with Pete. He’s a danger. Makes mistakes but it’s never his fault. I spent a week in the hospital relearning how to digest solid food because of him.”_

_Something dark flashed in John’s eyes, but it was gone before you could analyze it. Dean interrupted your exchange, bringing your new round of beers and then shoving you further into the booth as he sat down beside you. The mood quickly lifted as Dean congratulated you again for the save you’d done that day. For the first time, you’d actually saved John’s ass. In his fight with the ghost, while you and Dean were digging, he’d dropped his crowbar. As the ghost was bearing down on him, you’d distracted the ghost, attacking it with your shovel while you tossed the crowbar back to John. The two of you had kept it busy while Dean broke into the casket and finished it off. Dean and John both toasted you, making you blush like a schoolgirl at their praise. Soon, Pete was completely forgotten as you focused on being the happiest you’d ever been._

_A month later, you thought nothing of it when John sent you and Dean on your first hunt without him while he went to help another hunter. You didn’t ask questions when he rejoined you with a few new bruises and healing knuckles. He let you cluck over his hand, scolding him for letting a monster get that close to him._

_Nothing even sparked in your brain a couple of weeks later when Bobby mentioned the latest rumors about Pete. Bobby had always tried to let you know where Pete was if he heard anything, so you could avoid him. This time, however, it sounded like Pete was out of the game for good. A Wendigo hunt had gone badly, and Pete had almost died of exposure after a fall into a ravine. He’d only been searching for tracks when he’d fallen, his phone busting into uselessness in the fall and leaving him helpless. He eventually crawled his way out, but only after a wild animal almost disemboweled him. The story said it was a bear, but Bobby’s money was on something slightly smaller and wilier. You guessed coyote, and Bobby just shrugged. No matter what, Pete was out of hunting, forced to retire and find a way to live in the real world. As far as you and Bobby were concerned, the world was safer for it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: This was the last chapter I wrote. I wasn't going to, but it wouldn't leave me alone. There might even be a timestamp swimming in my head related to this, too.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sends John with you on a hunt.

By now, breakfast had become the unofficial time when hunts were assigned. Bobby gave Dean information on hunts as he found it, Dean kept tabs on what everyone was doing so he knew who was available, and whoever showed up for breakfast got a hunt. If you wanted a day off, you slept in. Sometimes, it even worked.

“Y/N,” Dean said, startling you from your bacon, “I’ve got what looks like a bunch of kitchen witches in the suburbs of Des Moines. The woman who won Best Dessert in the Urbandale Thanksgiving Festival suddenly had all the decorations on her house start weeping blood. When Bobby looked into it, he found a whole group of women in the same neighborhood that has been unusually successful, recently, with winning contests and the like. In the past six months, three have won cruises and one is publishing a cookbook all about corn. I’m thinking you go there, show them the dangers of witchcraft, convince them to hand over whatever spell book they’ve found, and maybe no one gets really hurt.” Dean handed you the file of papers Bobby had collected and turned to his father. “Dad, you’ll be her backup.”

Before you had a chance to decide how you felt about being paired up with John, he spoke up.

“I told Charlie I’d help her with the mysterious deaths in Smith Center General Hospital,” John stated. “Witches are serious business. Don’t you think you and Sam should back up Y/N?”

You definitely were not saddened by this. Nope. Not at all. Not even a little.

_Liar._

Dean shook his head. “Y/N has enough firepower to take out anything that comes after her, she just needs someone watching her back. Sam’s off helping Eileen with something and I want to stick close to home today. Jo woke up not feeling so great. It’s probably nothing, but I want to be nearby if she needs something. Besides, if it’s contagious, I probably have it, and I’d rather not be 5 hours away in the middle of a coven puking my guts up.”

Dean grimaced, looking pretty convincing in his argument. You’d have believed him if you hadn’t heard him and Jo through the wall just an hour earlier. _John’s not gonna fall for that, is he?_

Your thought was interrupted when Dean kept talking. “—I’ll go with Charlie, you go with Y/N. Sound good?”

John nodded and stood up to put away his breakfast dishes. While you stared in shock, John set the dishes in the sink and turned to you. “Wheels up in 30?” he asked you.

All you could do was nod, not believing what you were seeing. He was deferring to Dean, even after Dean made such a flimsy argument? John walked out of the kitchen, his ass looking _fine_ in those jeans, leaving your brain a complete jumble. You then stared at Dean, wondering what he really wanted that was important enough to throw you under the bus. _Probably more alone time with Jo_. You couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to argue against what was happening, even though it was obviously some kind of setup, so you decided to just go along with it.

The minute you and John stepped into Cookbook Lady’s house, you felt it. The pull towards the back of the house was magnetic. Whatever it was, it called to you. It wanted you. It wanted you to want it. It wanted you to use it, and you knew giving in would be the end of you.

“Mrs. Mayer, how long have you and your friends been practicing witchcraft?” you asked, ignoring John’s incredulous stare.

The aging woman with perfectly coiffed hair and manicured nails sputtered and stammered. “Wh—what on _earth_ are you talking about??” she exclaimed, actually clutching her _actual pearls_ like any good Midwestern housewife when accused of something so ridiculous.

“Please, Mrs. Mayer, don’t try to deny it. I’ve been able to feel whatever it is you’ve been using since I stepped through your front door. It’s probably a book, right? Maybe you found it at a garage sale or the secondhand bookstore? You thought it was nothing, until you tried out a spell or two and they actually worked?”

Her jaw flapped up and down as she tried to think of an appropriate rebuttal and failed.

“Then, you told a friend, who told a friend, and eventually ‘book club’ became ‘coven’, didn’t it?”

John sat stiffly beside you on the couch, hand ready to draw his sidearm if he needed it. He almost grabbed it when the doorbell rang, startling all of you. Mrs. Mayer suddenly relaxed, though, standing up to answer the door. You followed, keeping yourself between John and whatever was going to come through the door.

You expected the rest of the coven. You and John had visited four houses before finding Mrs. Mayer, and you figured they would all come to the woman running it all. Although facing down an entire coven would be tricky, they were just student witches, playing with an old book they found. They probably didn’t know any attack spells, and even if they did, disarming them would be easy.

What came through the door, however, was a demon.

_Not students, borrowers!_

As soon as the smell of sulfur hit your nose, you went on the attack. Unfortunately, you were a second too slow. You and John flew over the couch and hit the wall, hanging in midair on either side of the fireplace like decorative sconces.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? The would-be Queen of Hell herself, working with a hunter to take down a coven.” Short and balding, but fairly well-dressed, the demon didn’t impress you much. He almost reminded you of Crowley, except for the combover and an orange tie and pocket square. He was so close to looking classy but didn’t quite hit the mark. He tipped his head towards you and smirked. “Now, we both know that the King wouldn’t like that much, don’t we?” He shook his head and wagged a finger at you. “Tsk tsk tsk. You’ve been a bad girl, Y/N. So, while I’ve got you where I want you, let’s see how I can work this to my advantage.” He looked to Mrs. Mayer, who had been standing behind him with an evil gleam in her eyes, and commanded, “Get the book.”

When she returned, carrying a very large, leather-bound book, you worried she might break a heel in her hurry to complete her task. She wasn’t a distraction for long, though. As soon as the book was in front of you, a shudder shook you from head to toe.

The Crowley-wannabe _giggled_. It was an actual evil giggle you’d see in a movie in response to your reaction to the book. You were both drawn to and repelled by the book. From what you could see, it was a very old Grimoire, with nothing really distinctive about it. Except for the whispers you could hear. You couldn’t understand the words in the whispers, but you knew what it wanted. It wanted you to hold it. It wanted you to open it and read it and _use it_.

You were pulled from your reverie by another evil giggle.

“You _are_ drawn to it, aren’t you? You feel it and hear it the same way I do. I’ve been looking for a witch like you for a while, now. This little coven was fine, but you… you will be magnificent! I can see, now, why Crowley likes you!” He crossed his arms and tapped a finger on his chin. “Yes, yes, you’ll do nicely.”

Before you could see what he was about to do or try to make a move to stop it, he snapped his fingers and Mrs. Mayer dropped dead to the floor. You and John both cried out at her death, which woke you up to how much you were actually able to do, in spite of being in the demon’s hold. You had been so distracted by the pull of the book and what was happening, you hadn’t even realized you could speak. As the woman’s body settled in a grotesque pile with her head at an unnatural angle, a wave of fury washed over you and you directed it at the demon.

 _“INCENDIARUM!”_ you screamed, feeling your power flow through your body and speed toward the demon. He quite literally exploded like a firework in front of you, sparks and shrapnel flying everywhere as you and John fell to the floor.

Standing up, you looked around and saw the damage you had done. Burning bits of demon were everywhere. It was like someone lit the contents of a blender on fire and set it to puree without the lid on. The curtains were already catching on fire, as well as bits of carpet. All of that, however, was background noise compared to the pull of the book.

You stared at the book, not hearing John telling you that you both needed to get out of there. You started walking towards the book, not feeling John’s hands on your shoulders as he tugged on you to get you to leave. You pushed John away just to get your hands on the book, hearing it call to you in your mind like a siren’s song.

When the book was in your hands, a rush of euphoria hit your system like the best high at a rave. With this book, you could do _anything_. You could rule Hell by yourself. Hell, you could rule the _world_. Everything you could ever want was right there, at your fingertips, in that book. Angels, demons, world leaders, _everyone_ would bow down before you as long as you had that book!

John’s face took over your field of vision as he shook you violently. “Snap out of it, Y/N! You’ve got to wake up! We have to get out of here!!”

The entire room was engulfed in flames, now, all of Mrs. Mayer’s Thanksgiving decorations having caught fire. Hand-shaped paper turkeys hanging on the refrigerator curled and blackened in the heat while the sofa was giving off enough flames to singe your clothing. Slowly, you shifted your gaze to John’s face and saw the panic rising there. You looked down at the book, and then back at John.

“ _Exite,_ ” you said, no inflection to your voice at all, and John disappeared.

The book loomed large in your mind, and you struggled with yourself. The heat grew around you, and just when you thought you couldn’t stand it another moment, you were able to throw the book away from yourself and onto the burning couch.

Pulling more power from yourself, you poured it into the flames engulfing the book, feeling the pull of the book weaken as the pages burned. When the last vestiges of the book were gone, the pull disappeared, and you tried to take a breath. Smoke filled your lungs, though, and you began to cough, causing panic to fill your body. With the book gone, you could now see the flames all around you, licking at your clothes.

“ _Abite!_ ” you cried, waving the flames away from you as you ran for the door. “ _Abite,_ _abite, abite!_ ” you repeated, forcing the flames and heat to steer clear of you and the door to explode outwards, leaving you a path to freedom. At the end of the walkway to the house was John, down on his knees in the grass, his head in his hands. You stumbled to him, falling to the ground in front of him.

John’s head whipped up from his hands as you coughed, trying to expel as much smoke from your lungs as you could. Coughing became more difficult when John took you in his arms and nearly squeezed the life out of you.

“Oh, God, Y/N, I thought I lost you! I thought I’d have to go tell my boys that I couldn’t do a goddamn thing to save you! Thank God you’re alright!” John held you tightly, rocking you as he continued thanking God and mumbling about how he thought you were gone.

When your coughing fit subsided, you heard sirens in the distance heading your way. “John, we’ve got to go or come up with a good story,” you croaked through the wreck that was your throat.

John refused to move. “You need treatment for that cough, so we’re staying right here. Just let me do the talking.”

You stayed quiet, letting the EMT’s treat you for smoke inhalation, all the while thinking about how close you came to killing both John and yourself. Oh, and you completely failed to save an innocent Midwestern housewife who didn’t know any better. If you’d attacked the demon sooner, she might still be alive. If you hadn’t sent John outside when you did, it could have been him sitting in the ambulance wearing an oxygen mask. The worst part was how close you came to walking out of the house with the book in your arms, not caring who lived or died. The book just had _so much power_ , and you very nearly gave in to it.

John promised the doctors in the emergency room he would take care of you so they would release you, and he packed you both up and drove you to a nearby motel. The drive was mostly quiet, with only an occasional cough breaking the silence. When you were parked in front of the room John had rented, he opened your door to help you out, but instead of getting out of the car, you finally spoke.

“That book. It was awful, John. It wanted me. It called to me. It almost took me. If I hadn’t have been distracted by the book, I could have saved that woman. I could have saved her and taken out the demon without burning the whole damn house down and risking both of our lives. That book, John. It wanted to me to walk out of there with it, and I almost did. I don’t know how I didn’t.”

John dropped into a squat in front of you and grabbed your hands, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Darlin’, our job is filled with ‘could’ves’. I could’ve stayed in Heaven. Crowley could’ve kept his damn mother in check. That woman could’ve decided that a stupid trophy wasn’t worth her immortal soul and avoided witchcraft. That demon could’ve decided to kill us without a second thought. None of that matters. All that matters is that you fought it, you saved me, and you saved yourself. You took out a demon and an evil book, and I’m calling that a win.”

John’s hands dwarfed yours in size, and the heat from them spread up your arm to your heart. You just wished you deserved to feel it.


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt leaves you shaken and John helps.

That night, you showered and crawled right into the one bed in the room, not even wanting to pick at the pizza John had ordered or think about the sleeping arrangements. You hoped for sleep to come quickly and be dreamless while knowing that was unlikely. You dropped off quickly, but before long, you were awake again, sitting up and coughing when the scream couldn’t escape your throat. A warm hand rubbed your back while another squeezed your shoulder until the coughing fit subsided. As remnants of your nightmare clung to your mind, sobbing replaced the coughing, and the hands turned into arms wrapped tightly around you.

John held you and rocked you, mumbling reassurances that you were okay, and everything was okay, and it was only a dream. Eventually, your tears slowed, and you realized that John had pulled you into his lap, nestling your head under his chin and enveloping you with his warmth and scent. It was the safest you’d ever felt. Even though you didn’t deserve it or belong there, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

Before the moment could become awkward, John’s voice rumbled up from his chest. “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

The question threw you off guard, at first. How did John know this game? Did he ask Dean or Sam about it?

“Pizza,” you said, your voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. You cleared your throat and tried to make your voice sound less like you were about to cry again, even if you were. “You can get all kinds of pizza, nowadays. Taco pizza, veggie pizza, chicken alfredo pizza. I could have different flavors every night and still be technically eating pizza.”

The tension bled out of John’s body, drawing yours with it. You still couldn’t bring yourself to leave his arms, though.

“If you could have a lifetime supply of one kind of cheese, which would you choose?” you asked John, still hiding your face in his neck as you relaxed in his hold.

“Cheese, huh? That’s a tough one,” he replied, putting a little laugh into his voice. “I mean, there’s some good cheeses out there, you know? You’ve got cheddar and mozzarella, your basic staple cheeses, plus good ole American and its individually wrapped slices. Then there’s the government cheese I had sometimes as a kid. It’s really gross at first, but it grows on you. Like a fungus.”

A short laugh bubbled up inside you and came out as a snort. You were completely mortified, but John just threw his head back and laughed.

“Did you just snort?” he managed to ask in between gasping breaths.

You buried your face in his shirt and nodded. “It was funny, and I couldn’t stop it!” you whined, your words muffled by the fabric. John kept laughing and you swatted at his chest, glaring up at him playfully. “Don’t laugh at me or I’ll tell Ellen to find some of that government cheese and put it into every meal you eat for a week!”

John made a good faith effort to stop laughing, but he was practically eating his lips to do it. You couldn’t stop your lips from smiling as you watched the light dance in his eyes. Every fiber of your being wanted to kiss him, and you found yourself staring at his mouth, wondering if the short beard he was sporting these days was long enough to be soft or still short enough to be prickly. You ripped your eyes from his mouth and moved off his lap before the blush could take over your face where he could see it.

Shifting the covers around, you pretended like nothing had happened while your stomach did flip-flops. “Thanks for getting me out of my head. We should try and get back to sleep. Have to get home tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” John muttered, rearranging himself back onto his side of the bed while you did the same. He turned off the light and the sudden darkness made every noise seem louder.

Your heart was racing, pounding in your ears so loudly you thought surely John could hear it. What just happened? What made any part of you think that even thinking about kissing John when he was that close was okay? You struggled to even out your breaths, so John would think you were falling asleep, but your mind was anything but calm. One half of your brain was acting as drill sergeant. _Lock it down, Y/N. You can’t have John, so it’s better to not even think about him that way. He’s a friend and a colleague and that’s all._ The other half sounded suspiciously like you when you were a moon-eyed teenager. _But he worried about you and he held you and he comforted you and he smiled at you!!! Maybe he does finally see you!!!_

“Good night, Y/N.” John’s voice cut through the cacophony in your head.

“Good night, John,” you replied. You just hoped the peanut gallery in your head would quiet down so you could sleep.

 

You realized you were awake slowly, without knowing what exactly had woken you. All you knew was you’d never felt so comfy, warm, and safe before in your life. As your senses each came online one at a time, you felt arms around you and soft whiskers against your forehead, then smelled the comforting scent of soap and Old Spice, then heard the reason for your wakefulness.

“Well! Isn’t this cozy?” Crowley said, startling you out of your groggy reverie. What also got your blood flowing was John immediately coming alive with a gun in his hand and shooting Crowley.

“Crowley!” you yelled, adrenaline spiking so that you had to force yourself not to turn him into something inanimate. You opened your eyes when the rage passed and glared at the demon. “I just exploded a demon yesterday for pissing me off. You should really be more careful about startling me!”

Crowley clutched at his shoulder, rubbing the soreness from the bullet out. “He shot me! You’re complaining about your wakeup call, and he shot me!” His face was reaching near comical levels of red, now, and you failed utterly at suppressing your laughter.

“Maybe next time you’ll actually call instead of just showing up and startling sleeping hunters? Honestly, you should be glad it was John that shot you. I’m far more lethal these days.”

John also tried to suppress his smile, but you could tell he was pleased he’d hit his mark. “You should also be thankful this was a witch hunt and not a demon hunt, or those would be demon trap bullets, not witch-killing bullets.” He put his gun on the nightstand and wiped his hands over his face and through his hair, trying to wake himself up.

Crowley tutted. “It’s nearly noon, which is a more than reasonable time to assume that you would be awake!”

You gasped and grabbed your phone. 11:53AM. Although it had been late when you’d gotten back the night before, it wasn’t that late. Normally, you’d have been awake and on the road hours before this. You shook your head to shake off the wonder and focused on the matter at hand.

“Whatever. We can discuss sleeping habits later. What do you need, Crowley?” you snapped, your brain still not awake enough to consider implications.

Crowley tried to dust off his suit, scowling at the new hole and trying to make his pocket square cover it before sighing and giving up. “First, tell me about the demon you exploded.” His hands went into his pockets as he waited for your explanation.

“We thought we were here for some kitchen witches, turned out they were borrowers. The demon in question showed up and pissed me off. Last mistake he ever made,” you quipped with a shrug. “Now, what do you need?”

Crowley frowned but shook off his displeasure. “I just need you to make an appearance at court to quiet some rumblings. Make a show of solidarity by sitting through boring business, make some uncharitable suggestions, and show your support for me even if I disagree. I’ll have you back in time for dinner.”

“Fine. Get me coffee and I’ll get ready to go.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and a hot mug of coffee appeared on your nightstand.

“Cream and sugar the way I like it?” You cocked an eyebrow at the demon and he smiled.

“Nothing but the best for my favorite witch,” he replied with a respectful tip of his head.

Picking up the mug and your bag, you headed into the bathroom while taking your first sip. “Hmm. Not bad, Crowley. If this King of Hell thing ever falls through, you could make a decent living as a barista,” you commented before shutting the door behind you.

As you took a quick shower, you thought about how you’d woken up, all wrapped up in John. When had that happened? Had you started it, or did he? You didn’t know the answers to those questions, but you knew it was the best night of sleep you’d ever had.

While throwing on clothes and putting yourself together, you heard voices through the door. What on earth could Crowley and John be talking about? As you finished up, the voices got louder.

“She almost _died_ last night, you dick! That book wanted her, and she sent me out before I could do anything! I stood outside that house for goddamn _ever_ , watching the flames go out of control with her inside… just like—” John’s voice cut off as your heart began to break.

_Just like Mary._

 “—And there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do!” You opened the door, but neither John nor Crowley noticed. John was standing over Crowley, his chest heaving with his anger. “How… What would I…?” John started pacing the room, now, his arms waving wildly. Suddenly, he stopped in front of Crowley, again, wagging a finger in his face. “If you ever find a way of getting that shit out of her, you better do it fucking fast, because if anything ever happens to her, you’ll have more than some pissant demons coming after you!”

Crowley gave John a placating smile, then turned to you. “And what happened with the book, love?” He looked like the parent of an errant child asking where they hid the paddle.

With your mouth pursed, you glared at Crowley. “I destroyed it. Burned it until I couldn’t feel it, anymore. It was powerful, but not Book of the Damned powerful. It’s as gone as the demon and the house they burned in.”

“Next time, I would prefer you bringing such things to me, but I appreciate the circumstances that required otherwise,” Crowley grumbled with a fake smile.

Your eyes rolled so hard you thought you might have glimpsed your brain. “Yeah, ‘cause you need more power. No, Crowley. All evil books found during hunts get locked up in the bunker’s many storage rooms.”

You turned to John, who was now standing next to the bed, packing his bag. You put a hand on his arm to get his attention and were momentarily taken back by the glimpse of pain you saw on his face before it fell back into reserved neutrality.

“You’re okay driving back to the bunker, right? Crowley will bring me back tonight, so you don’t have to wait for me or anything.”

John nodded and took your bag from you. You squeezed his arm and tried to give him a reassuring smile. Crowley felt the need to sow just a little more discord, though.

“Sorry, darling, but I’m going to need you dressed a little nicer than what you’re wearing.” With a wave of his hand, your outfit changed, back to one of the fancy outfits that hung in your closet at the asylum. “Ah, much better! And don’t worry, I put the flannel in your bag since I know you’re particular about it.”

Glaring at Crowley, you growled, “I’m also particular about picking out my own bra and panties, Crowley. If you want me to upgrade lingerie you’ll never see, just give me your credit card and I’ll do my own shopping, thank you very much!”

John barely got out an appalled grunt before Crowley had snapped his fingers and you were standing in his private chambers in the asylum.

“Just making sure your look is 100% authentic, my dear,” Crowley offered. “Can’t have demons discussing your panty line, now can we?”

“Ugh!” you grunted, giving him the best bitch face you could muster. “Let’s just get this over with.”


	59. 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon hunt with John and Dean goes badly.

_2005_

_You screwed up._

_It’s possible you weren’t the only person to make a mistake, but you had definitely screwed up. The three of you had split up, John took the front, Dean took the back, and you took the side. Dean found the demon, first, and when you saw Dean lying on the floor as still as death, you didn’t clear the room properly. You only gave a cursory glance around you, and never checked the closet. The demon hit you in the head from behind, and now he had you by your hair, knife to your neck while he taunted John._

_The smell of sulfur enveloped you as he sniffed up your neck like you were dinner. “Oh, John, you’ve got great taste in women, you know? I mean, Mary was a prime piece, but this one?” He nuzzled your neck, letting his lips catch on your skin before licking up the side of your neck to bite down on your earlobe, making you shudder and squirm to get away. “This one is downright delectable!”_

_Even though your vision was a little fuzzy from the blow you’d taken, you saw the surprise on John’s face. What did this demon know about Mary?_

_“Let her go, you black-eyed bastard!” John growled, taking a step towards you._

_“Uh uh uh,” the demon sang, pressing the knife into your skin._

_It must have been the head injury making you think that John looked panicked at seeing you in danger. True, this was the first time something had gotten control over you like this, but you’d been hunting with Dean and John for three years, now. Nothing ever threw John._

_“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy taking this one apart in front of you. Mary’s death was quick, but I prefer to take my time, you know? Savor it,” the demon cackled._

_“And how would you know about my wife’s death? Were you there?”_

_The demon sighed. “Sadly, no. The story of Mary Winchester and those like her has been scribbled on demon bathroom walls for decades, though.” A maniacal giggle escaped his lips right by your ear, making you cringe. “They’re the fairy tales we tell little baby demons before they go to sleep every night!”_

_John moved towards your side, trying to reassure you with his eyes while your panic was rising. The knife at your neck shifted a fraction of an inch, causing just a pinch of pain, but it was enough to startle you into almost hyperventilating. “Stay calm, baby. We’re gonna figure out what this asshole wants, and you and Dean are gonna be just fine, okay?”_

_The look in John’s eye told you he had a plan and he was trying desperately to give you a hint of what it was. You couldn’t read him as well as you could Dean, but you knew enough for your heart rate to calm. John had a plan. You’d be fine._

_The demon laughed. “Ain’t nobody getting out of here that I don’t want to get out of here,” he sneered. “And this one, she’s nothing. I could take my time carving her up and no one would care. All she’s good for is making you soft and pliable.” Another sick laugh erupted by your ear. “Man, but she makes you hard as nails at night, though, don’t she?” He sniffed in John’s direction, now, while he shifted to keep John in front of him. “Oh yeah, I can smell it on you, the pining… the nights spent thinking about her, the days you watch her every move, step in front of every knife meant for her. Oh, Johnny, have you got it bad, which is so, so good for me!”_

_The demon’s hold loosened as he laughed, his words barely registering as you concentrated on John. When this was all over, you’d have to ask John what the demon was talking about, but this wasn’t the time to think about it. You could almost see his plan in his eyes behind the fear. While staring you in the eyes, he blinked, and you acted._

_One of your hands had been holding the arm with the knife, the other one held down by his other arm. All at once, you grabbed the knife arm with both hands, pulling it away from you in his moment of distraction while stomping on his instep with one foot and dropping your body like a sack of potatoes. What had distracted him was John leaping towards you. As you dropped, he swung his arm, punching the demon in the face._

_The knife went flying as you spun out of the demon’s arms and turned back to assess where you could help. The demon had staggered back and was collecting himself when John got another blow in, throwing him further off guard. He recovered quickly, though, and began returning punches. When you stepped up to aid John, the demon waved a hand at you and sent you flying against the wall, your head hitting with a dull thud as it dented the drywall. The room began to spin as you dangled with your boots at least a foot above the floor. John continued to fight the demon, starting to recite an exorcism in between punches, and you suddenly hit the floor hard, the world going dark._

_It was the yelling that woke you up._

_“...because not only did you get yourself injured, you put Y/N in danger, too! He only got the drop on her because she was checking on you!”_

_“I know, Dad! I made a mistake! It won’t happen again! I don’t need a rundown!”_

_“Well, mistakes in this job get people killed, Dean! Maybe a rundown will keep you from making the same stupid mistakes again and getting yourself, or Y/N, killed! I won’t always be around to save your ass and stitch you up, Dean! You need to step up and get your fucking shit together or get out of the goddamn game!”_

_The drumline in your head refused to take a break, so you needed to stop your Winchesters before they made your head explode because you couldn’t take both. After a deep breath in, you got up from the bed you’d been lying on and steeled yourself for your own yell._

_“BOTH OF YOU, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”_

_Both men turned to you in silence, guilt and anger evenly spread across both of their faces. Your head pounded, and your ears rang a bit as the echoes of the yelling faded into the air of the motel room. Blinking and holding your head tightly between your hands, you groaned._

_Both Winchesters rushed to your side and supported you as you sat down on the bed again, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. They gently moved you back, so you were lying down, your head nestled gently on a pillow. When the throbbing eased up just a smidge, you squinted at the father and son and frowned._

_“First of all, John, mistakes happen. I was older than Dean when I fucked up and let a monster almost disembowel me. If it weren’t for my partner at the time, even though he was shitty, I would have died. It’s why we don’t hunt alone. We make mistakes, and we either die, or we learn and move on.”_

_You turned to Dean. “But the way to learn from our mistakes is to review them and see what we could have done differently to prevent them from happening again.”_

_Back to John. “I also made a mistake. I didn’t clear the room properly before checking on Dean. I didn’t even notice the closet he must have been hiding in before everything went dark.” You looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m just glad both of you are okay.” Although Dean had a bruise forming on his forehead from where he hit the ground, John had a shiner and a swollen jaw you couldn’t account for._

_With one hand, you gently caressed John’s cheek, getting him to move his face in and out of the light so you could inspect the damage._

_“How did you get that?” Your neck felt itchy, so you reached up to scratch it only to find a bandage there. “And how did I get this?”_

_John’s eyes widened as a strange mixture of emotions flashed across his face. “You don’t remember?”_

_Shaking your head, you said, “No. Last thing I remember was leaning over Dean to check for a pulse and bam! Lights out.”_

_Closing your eyes, you tried to picture the room and Dean and what happened next, but there was just a black wall of nothing. “Nope. I got nothing. So, I wasn’t knocked out?”_

_John shook his head and moved to the chair, leaving Dean next to you with his arm around your waist to support you. “Not then. There was a fight, the demon got a hold you at one point, he had a knife, and you got nicked. You fought like a wildcat, though, got out of his hold, gave me an in to take him down. When you started to rejoin the fight, though, he sent you flying into a wall and smoked out. Dean woke up as the body dropped. You’ve been out for about an hour. I was about to take you to the hospital if you didn’t wake up soon.”_

_John’s gaze was so heavy you could almost feel it. So much worry for Dean was expected, but for you? This felt like it should be a surprise, but it wasn’t. John just cared. Not the way you wanted him to, but he did. He showed it in how he patched you up, how he remembered what your favorite foods were, and how he always made your coffee just the way you liked it._

_You smiled to try and lighten John’s gaze. “Well, I’m awake, now, and back to wrangling the two of you, I guess,” you quipped, reaching up and ruffling Dean’s hair._

_Dean’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you. “Yeah, but wrangling Winchesters is your favorite thing to do, ain’t it, Bigs?”_

_You laughed and hugged Dean, just so very glad he was okay._

_John spent the night waking up with you and Dean every so often as was required with concussions. The next morning, he handed a pile of papers to Dean._

_“I found you and Y/N a case. New Orleans. Looks like voodoo. You both need a couple of days to rest up, and the drive there will give it to you. I found something in California that seems a bit more urgent, so I’m heading out this morning.” He looked back and forth between you and Dean. “People aren’t dyin’ in New Orleans, so rest, recover, then get down there and figure it out.”_

_You both nodded. “Yes, sir,” you replied, making sure he knew you were taking his orders seriously._

_Three weeks later, you were finishing up the voodoo hunt when Dean got a voicemail from John. John’s message was frightening enough, saying you were all in danger because something big was starting to happen. Even scarier, though, was the hidden message underneath John’s voice. In the background was EVP. Dean filtered everything else out, and a woman’s voice said, “I can never go home.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I look forward to hearing y'all telling me how this connects to canon! (If you can't, then I haven't done my job well.)


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving brings a lot of emotions.

For a few days after the hunt, you decided to give John some space, since it had obviously brought up bad memories for him. You really didn’t want to bother him, but all you could think about when you were alone was waking up in John’s arms. And the things he’d said to Crowley. And the way he’d held you when he’d comforted you. And how did he know about the game you and the boys had played to chase away nightmares? And why would he care about a witch who nearly got him killed when he’d had a soul mate once upon a time?

Even though you were trying to give John space, John didn’t necessarily seem to want it. During movie night, he sat next to you on the couch, and you woke up from a doze to feel his arm around you. His regular seat at the dinner table somehow became the one next to you, and whenever you had errands to run, he offered to go with you. The real surprise was when he wanted to go Christmas shopping for the boys. He sought you out, asking for your advice and assistance, and you ended up picking through stores together. He just seemed to always be around you, asking your opinion, or wanting you to tell him stories from when he was dead. It was nice, but it made it hard to lock up your feelings and give him space.

Thanksgiving was amazing. Eileen, Donna, Jody, and the girls all came to the bunker, and everyone pitched in to make a dinner that was beyond belief. Having pretty much everyone you’d ever loved, bar your parents, sitting around one table while eating, laughing, and telling stories was the best feeling you’d ever had. Dean told the story about the time when you’d schooled a diner cook on the proper Thanksgiving leftovers sandwich and Ellen talked about the first time Jo tried to roast a bird with disastrous results.

Everyone got quiet, though, when John spoke about Mary.

“You know, we were married for over five years before I found out that Mary couldn’t cook?” John shook his head as his eyes glazed over and his lips turned up into a smile, utterly oblivious to the complete hush that had fallen over the table. “We did holidays with my mom the first few years we were married, but after she passed, we were on our own.” He seemed to come back a little and realize that all eyes were on him, but he didn’t stop. “I was usually at work when she was ‘cooking dinner’, but I’d be home all day on Thanksgiving, so she couldn’t fake it this time.” He smiled at his sons, both of them staring at him with wonder in their eyes. “When it was time for dinner, the turkey was still frozen, the green beans were mushy, and the mashed potatoes were burned beyond recognition.” John’s face screwed up in a sour pucker. “And the pie! The pie was soup!” Everyone chuckled while John grimaced and mimed gagging. “She was so upset that she sat at the table and just cried. She finally admitted to me that she’d never cooked anything more complicated than a grilled cheese sandwich. She’d bought a cookbook and clipped recipes from the newspaper and tried to find out what the hell allspice was, and all I could do was laugh. God, she hated that I laughed. I told her, ‘It doesn’t matter what we eat, as long as we’re together as a family.’ She was pregnant with Dean at the time, and she worried that she’d be a bad mom because she couldn’t cook. I told her to let me worry about the cooking and she could focus on the bun in her oven.”

Everyone chuckled, and Dean blushed as Jo teased him. All eyes moved to Bobby as he started talking about his first Thanksgiving with Karen. You didn’t hear a word of it, though, because John’s hand had found yours under the table as he’d finished his story. He held your hand with a firm grip, giving it a squeeze so you’d look up at him. He gave you a quiet smile, and then let go of your hand so he could put his arm around you, pulling you into his side. His lips met your temple and you dropped your head, so no one would see your blush. For whatever reason, he wanted you close to him, and you couldn’t deny him anything.

Of course, such a display would be seen by Charlie and her eagle eyes. Charlie must have measured out the space between you and John several times throughout the night and found the lack of it to be telling. The next day, she cornered you in your workroom and demanded details.

“I saw that kiss, and he followed you around all night like a puppy, doing whatever you asked, and then you _snuggled_ on the couch together when we were all watching movies!! So, spill! What’s going on with you two??”

If looks could kill, Charlie would have had daggers in her head. “Sheesh, Charlie, you and Bobby! Nothing is going on with us. We’re…. friends. For the first time ever, I’m not his subordinate on his mission to avenge his wife; I’m a fellow hunter who loves his sons the same way he does. I’ve done things and fought battles he can’t imagine, and now that he’s not single-minded in his goals, he can finally be friends with people.” You looked pointedly at your friend. “We’re just friends. Nothing more.”

Charlie sighed and flopped onto the other chair in the room. “Wow, lady. You’ve gone totally Cleopatra here.”

One eyebrow went up. “Huh?”

Charlie shook her head. “You’re totally, like, the QUEEN of Denial! Guys don’t kiss the heads of women they’re just friends with!”

“AHA!!!” you nearly yelled as you turned with an accusing finger. “Dean has kissed your head countless times, and mine, and Ellen’s, and none of us are dating him! Your argument is invalid!”

Charlie’s eyes nearly rolled into the next room. “Because we’re more than his friends, we’re his family. Which actually proves my point! John thinks of you as more than just a friend!”

_Have to ask Sam for bitch face lessons if there’s gonna be more conversations like this one._

“Yeah, I’m the bastard cousin twice removed that’s, oh yeah, don’t forget, a witch. Charlie,” you paused just to take a breath and calm yourself, “I nearly got him killed on our last hunt. I got an innocent killed. I’m dangerous and unpredictable and have a possible lifespan of hundreds of years. Oh, and he already had a soul mate, so you can’t claim that, either. I know the hopeless romantic in you wants to claim we’re meant to be, but we’re really not.”

Charlie visibly deflated in front of you. “C’mon, Y/N,” she whined. “It’s not that bad!”

You turned back to your desk and shook your head. “Even if it’s not….” _Cleansing breath in, let it all out._ “I will not put myself through hoping again for something that I spent _22 years_ hoping for in vain.” You looked hard at Charlie. “ _22 years_ , Charlie. That’s almost half of my life. I can’t do it again. I can’t hope, and make something out of every smile and touch, and dream about what could be, just to have it all… taken away… _again!_ ” Tears welled up in your eyes and you took another deep breath to try and calm yourself. “I hoped, I dreamed, and then he left me behind and there was nothing. I grieved, I tried to move on, and I did stupid things that nearly destroyed me. Then he was back. I hoped again, I dreamed again, and for one, shining moment, I thought it was real, and then he was gone. Again. This time, for good.” Your throat closed as two tears slid down your cheeks. “I will not hope again. I’m an adult who does not dream about shit like happy endings, anymore, because they don’t exist. I will be happy with whatever he gives me, and I will never ask for more. He doesn’t want to give it to me, and I’m betting the world wouldn’t let me keep it, anyway.” Anger dried your tears and a wave of your hand closed all the books on your desk. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but I’m too old for fairy tales.”

With that, you turned away from your friend and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry? *ducks and hides*


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt comes up, and it's a weird one.

Charlie seemed to take your talk to heart and didn’t bring up you and John after that. You enjoyed the new comradery you had with John but refused to look for meaning into it. Now, you were just friends who cuddled on the couch together, sometimes. And occasionally, when everyone went out to the bar for a drink, John would stick a little closer to you than he really needed to, but that was okay. The number of guys that came over to talk to you certainly decreased, but it didn’t bother you, so you didn’t say anything. Maybe it would be nice to work off some steam with a random guy, but it just didn’t seem like a very attractive idea. Playing pool with John was more fun.

You hoped that monsters would take a break for the holidays, but apparently not. Jody called and asked for help with another strange one. This time, it was all centered around some new spa/resort that had popped up outside of town. It was touted as being a romantic getaway for couples with spa amenities like whirlpools, massages, facials, mud baths, and the like. The only problem was that the older male guests were dying of “idiopathic heart failure” left and right. One or two might be a coincidence. Three or four might warrant a visit from the health inspector. This spa was now up to five, the health inspector hadn’t found any violations, and Jody was suspicious.

Although Bobby was always up for a pedicure, Jody insisted that it be John that came up, and she said once we got there and looked at the evidence, we’d understand why. Once you got a look at the pictures of the previous victims, you agreed. Each one could have been John’s brother. They were all tall, muscular, dark-haired, and handsome. As cute as Bobby could be, there was no contest.

“After interviewing every employee in the place at least twice, I found more than just looks in common,” Jody said, pulling out file folders. “Each man was happily married, and they were still in the honeymoon stage, though it was the second marriage for three of them. A couple of these guys were actually on their honeymoon. Everyone said that the couples were so good together, ‘nice to see real love in this day and age’ kind of thing, but when I started digging, each man had flirted with several of the female staff members. Most of them brushed it off as the harmless kind of flirting, but there were a couple of girls who thought there might have been more behind it. None of the employees admitted to it, themselves, but several said the men made comments that made them think one of the employees might have been fooling around with these guys. If they’d all died differently, I’d say it was the wives, but they all went in their sleep.”

“No hex bags or EMF at the scene?” you asked, handing John files as you finished looking through them.

“I only got to look at the last two scenes since the coroner ruled the first three natural causes, so it didn’t raise any flags. EMF was all over the place because of the electrical substation that feeds the property, and if there was a hex bag, I couldn’t find it. I even had CSU tear the last room apart, even the mattress, and nothing. We tested the last two bodies for every poison known to man, too, and nothing.” Jody shook her head. “I’m stumped. I don’t know for sure that this is your kind of thing, but I can’t tell that it isn’t, either.” She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands folded in front of her. “I can’t do this on the books since you guys don’t legally exist, but whatever you want as far as equipment or backup, I’ll try to get it for you.”

You and John looked at each other, both knowing you were going to do this no matter if it was supernatural or not, and then nodded at Jody.

Jody grinned and gave up a sigh of relief. “Great! Now, let’s get you guys set up!”

Getting set up included buying some nicer clothes to wear, coming up with a detailed backstory for both you and John, and booking your room and activities for the week. It gave you a bit of a thrill to be booking a bunch of pampering, even if it was for a hunt. You hadn’t been pampered since you’d left Crowley’s asylum. It would be nice to get prettied up without the guilt of it coming from the King of Hell.

And that is how you ended up in the Honeymoon Suite, wearing expensive jewelry that included wedding rings, installing cameras to catch whoever or whatever was killing guests. It wasn’t until dinner that you realized what all this charade would entail. As you were about to walk down the hall to the restaurant, John offered you his arm, and you blushed as you took it. The heat flooding your face made you think of all the acting you had ahead of you and how you’d have to somehow control yourself. You would have to pretend to flirt with John, always be touching John, listen to John say nice things about you without letting your heart get hopeful, or even worse, crushed when it turned out to be just for the hunt.

For his part, John seemed to be pretty relaxed. He smiled and winked at you when waiters and other employees were nearby, and even got you out on the dance floor when the pianist played a song he had requested. Throughout it all, you blushed like a schoolgirl with her first crush. It was probably because John was your first crush. You tried to keep reminding yourself that it was all an act, just for the hunt, but when John was that close to you and your head was filled with his scent, it was so very easy to believe.

After dinner, you were back in your room, checking the feeds from the cameras, getting changed into your sleeping clothes, and sliding into bed with the man you loved. It took everything inside of you not to snuggle up to his side and kiss him goodnight.

 

* * *

 

Okay, you were officially in Hell. Nothing that felt this good could be real without there being something evil behind it. You and John were on your third full day at the resort, and you felt better than ever. You’d had two excellent nights of the best sleep of your life, every inch of your body had been massaged, steamed, soaked, shaved, exfoliated, and moisturized, and the food was out of this world. There was some fancy schmancy frou-frou food, but it was balanced with simple comfort food. Yes, you could order surf and turf with filet mignon and have goose liver pate as an appetizer, but you could also get a double cheeseburger with bacon and fried onion strings. If it weren’t for the tennis, golf, hiking, yoga, and fitness classes, you were sure you’d have to buy bigger clothes before this hunt was done.

It had been three days and two nights, so far, of gossiping with trophy wives during mud baths and facials, talking about John’s all-in-one gas station, grocery store, and service station with businessmen, and pretending you were madly in love with your husband. Okay, so the last part wasn’t so hard, but it was, because you had to make it seem fake to your ‘husband’ but real to everyone else. If you hadn’t have gotten such great sleep, you’d be exhausted.

The sleep was what surprised you. Every night, you went to bed, firmly on your side of the bed, nothing straying over the middle of the bed. Every morning, however, you woke up in John’s arms, legs tangled together. You’d allow yourself five minutes of enjoying the feel of him wrapped up in you before you’d gently pull away and head to the bathroom, letting him sleep in while you started your day. Those five minutes were both the best and worst part of each day. No matter how good they felt, you always reminded yourself that it wasn’t yours to keep.

The good news was, there was no end in sight. You’d have plenty more time to be pampered and enjoy being on John’s arm and the recipient of his tender smiles and cocky winks. The bad news was, there was no end in sight. John had flirted with every single female in the place, thankfully not when you were around, or you’d have died a million deaths, but not one of the women had done anything untoward. Every night, you checked the cameras in your room, looked for hex bags, and found nothing. You wanted to try to pry information from the staff or guests, but the deaths had been kept so quiet, there was literally no paper trail. Since the deaths had all been deemed natural, there was nothing in any of the local papers, and Jody had been told the staff was instructed to deny any deaths had even occurred, so there was nothing you could use to even get the conversation started. It was frustrating, to say the least.

But you kept on. Five men had died, each one had been at the resort for a few days, so there was still time for whatever it was to strike. You could handle the possessive arm around your back, the loving cheek kisses, and the hand-holding. You could withstand hearing John telling people that you were the light of his life since his first wife had died, how deeply in love with you he was, and how he didn’t know what he would do without you. True, your heart ached as you echoed the same sentiments back to him, meaning each and every one, but you could do this for the sake of the hunt.

So far, you’d made friends with the gossipiest women you could find and spent most of your time with them and their husbands. You had ‘alone time’ with your ‘new husband’, where you and John compared notes on what you’d done and any information you’d gathered, but meals and activities were done in this little clique. They seemed to be endless founts of information about the resort, the owners, the employees, and the guests, but nothing about employees having affairs with guests or any deaths. You’d found out that the yoga instructor was seeing the tennis instructor (could they be more cliché?), the tennis instructor was also seeing the pool boy (okay, that was bit different), and the pool boy was secretly the owner’s son trying to learn the business from the ground up without being seen as having had everything handed to him on a silver platter. That was just the tip of the iceberg, but no rumors of ghosts or witches.

You were knee-deep in acting scandalized by Muffy’s story about seeing the pool boy and the tennis instructor half naked together in the cabana when Bunny started clinking her spoon against her wine glass to get everyone’s attention. (You didn’t think Muffy and Bunny were their actual names, but that’s all anybody ever called them, so you just went with it.)

“It has come to my attention that this is John and Y/N’s honeymoon,” Bunny began. She turned towards you both with an accusing finger wag. “Shame on you both for not mentioning it to me sooner!” You and John chuckled appropriately, even though you were sure Bunny had known. “I’d like to propose a toast to the happy couple and wish them all the luck in their marriage. I’ve only known you for a couple of days, but I can already see that you love each other enough to get through anything life throws at you!” Everyone lifted their glass along with Bunny as she toasted you, “Cheers to John and Y/N!”

Heat flooded your face as you glanced nervously around the table, knowing what was expected. Looking up at John didn’t help, as he was just smiling down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, stealing the air from your lungs. Muffy, Dennis, Bunny, and Walter were now all calling for you to kiss, and your world reduced down to just John’s face as the blood roared in your ears. John already had one arm around your back over the back of your chair, so he simply used his other hand to cup your face, effectively blocking out everyone else at the table, and drew you to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you all kill me for that cliffhanger....
> 
> I'm thinking three chapters today, three chapters tomorrow, and this is all posted by the end of the weekend (Chicago time). Sound good? *desperately hopes you accept the cookie in exchange for her life*


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question: How many of you figured out the hunt, already? Let me know in the comments!

The kiss started out as just a gentle, but firm, pressing together of lips, but grew from there. His beard was soft against your skin as his mouth moved against yours. Your hands clutched his shirt as warmth flooded your system and sparks fired throughout your body. So many years of dreaming of this kiss never prepared you for a single moment of it. It was the best kiss anyone had ever given you, an absolutely perfect kiss, and you wished it could last forever.

Soon enough, John was pulling away, letting his forehead rest on yours for a moment before his hand dropped and he let the world back in. His eyes were so dark, you couldn’t look away from them, completely entranced by what you saw in them. If nothing else, he was just as affected by the kiss as you were, and your heart couldn’t stop pounding as he stared at you.

The rest of the world came crashing back in as your tablemates all cheered your kiss. The men congratulated John for blowing you away and the women made joking comments about wishing their husbands still kissed them like that. Dinner continued, as per usual, but now, John was always touching you. If his arm wasn’t around your back, his thumb rubbing circles on your arm, he was holding your hand under the table with his knee pressed tightly against yours. Conversation and food flowed around you, but you were drunk from John’s kiss, completely unable to concentrate on anything but John.

Dinner ended, and everyone went their separate ways, each couple getting off the elevator on a different floor. Your suite was on the top floor, leaving you and John alone after Bunny and Walter said their goodbyes. The elevator doors slid shut, and John had you pushed up against the wall before the car even started moving, his lips once again on yours.

This kiss was almost nothing like the kiss during dinner. This kiss was rough and ravenous, his tongue thrusting against your own, his hands squeezing your upper arms while his hips ground against your own. He groaned into the kiss, such a dirty, needy sound that you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same in reply. He broke away when the elevator doors slid open, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind him to your room. He had to pause to unlock the door, the five seconds it took for the key card to work making him growl in frustration.

Those five seconds were all you needed to bring you back to earth.

Why was he doing this? Was this just a way to relieve stress? Would he fuck you and then expect you to go back to being friends? Or maybe he’d want a friends-with-benefits deal like you’d had with Keith? He’d said some really nice things about you the past few days, so did that mean there might be more? Despite all your efforts for it not to, your heart started to hope.

The door finally flew open, John pulled you inside the room, then slammed the door shut, throwing the deadlock and door guard so no one could interrupt. He turned to you, but before his lips could crash down on yours again, you held him off with a hand on his chest.

You were unable to look him in the face, so you trained your eyes on his neck, watching his pulse jump. “Before this goes any further, John, I have to know, is this just a ‘When in Rome’ kind of situation?” John’s lack of response forced you to look at his face, and you saw frustration and confusion there. “Is this just a one-time thing? Just a bit of stress relief during this bitch of a hunt?” John’s eyes widened as he understood. “Because if it is, then I’d rather not.”

A moment stretched into forever while tears threatened to spill from your eyes and John just looked at you, trying to gather his thoughts.

“No, honey. God, no.” He clasped your shoulders with his hands, ducking his head just enough that he could look you in the eyes. “You are so much better than that. You deserve more than that. You deserve more than I could ever give you, but I’ll do my damnedest to give you everything I’ve got.”

John searched your face for understanding, and when he could tell his words weren’t sinking in, he tried again.

“I was going to wait until after this hunt, take you somewhere nice, ask you out properly, try to do this right, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Y/N, I love you. I have for years.”

The world again narrowed down to just John’s face and a roaring in your ears. You couldn’t possibly have heard him right because you could have sworn he just said he’d loved you for years.

“But—no, that can’t… but… what?” you stammered, completely unable to process what he’d just said.

“Look, if you don’t feel the same, I’ll understand. Dean made me think maybe you did, but he could be wrong, I guess.” John dropped his hands from your shoulders and took a step back from you, disappointment all over his face.

The loss of his warmth spurred you to action and you grabbed his arm before he could get too far away. “No! Dean’s not wrong! I do! I mean, I have! For years… you know… too! I just didn’t ever think you’d ever….”

John’s smile took over his face as he beamed at you. “Yeah?”

Your grin felt like it matched his. “Yeah,” you said softly, your head spinning with just the idea that you might actually get to have everything you’d ever wanted.

John’s lips were once again on yours, his arms holding you tightly against him. He moved you back to the bed, only separating from you when you sat down on the edge. It was as you were grinning up at him that you saw one of your cameras over his shoulder.

You stopped John from leaning over you with another hand and a gasp. “Shit. John, um, we should turn the cameras off and check the tape before we, uh, you know….”

John straightened back up and inhaled loudly, letting it out slowly to calm himself down. “Yeah, that we should.”

You both headed over to the desk and John sat down in the chair, pulling you into his lap. You leaned forward to bring up the program running the cameras on the computer, letting out a squeak when John pulled you back, so your ass was flush against him, the hard line of his cock pressing hot against you. Your brain went blank, nothing but static, as he squeezed your hips and shifted so you had to spread your legs to keep your balance. Your body, however, went into overdrive. Heat rushed through your system, settling between your legs as you felt John rub against you through both your clothes and his.

“Darlin’, you doing alright there? I thought you said you were gonna check the cameras, but you haven’t even brought up the program, yet?” His voice was a sexy drawl that raised your internal temperature another hundred degrees or so and made you distinctly aware of how wet you were already getting, even though he’d barely touched you.

“If you want this done fast, you need to stop what you’re doing,” you warned, though it sounded more like a whimper.

John chuckled, and you could hear how pleased he was with himself, but he stopped actively rutting against your ass. His hands, however, had a mind of their own, and they seemed to want to map out your entire body. While you brought up the program and shut down the cameras, ensuring you wouldn’t be starring in your own personal porno, his hands slid up your sides. While you brought up the footage from while you were gone, they traveled up your back to your shoulders and down your arms. While you started reviewing the footage, his hands dropped back to your hips before sliding down the outside of your thighs, then moving up the inside. Calling on every reserve of strength you had, you focused on the screen, watching tons of nothing happening in the room until you saw the two of you enter it. You cut off the video, deleting everything after when the door opened and saving the file for in case you needed it later, then sat back as John’s hands wrapped around your waist.

He was nuzzling into your shoulder blades, his hands moving up to your breasts, when you interrupted him with a stray thought.

“I’m beginning to think there’s no hunt here,” you said, your breath catching at the end as he palmed your breasts and kneaded them gently, just getting a feel for them through your clothing.

John chuckled. “I’ve been thinking that for two days, darlin’,” he mumbled, his words muffled by your blouse.

“No, I mean, I don’t think anyone died here. I don’t think any of this is real.”

John’s hands faltered as he considered your words. He shifted you in his lap, so he could see your face. “You think Jody sent us on a wild goose chase?”

You studied John’s face while you considered the facts. “Everything we know about this hunt we got from Jody. According to her, the staff has been told to deny there were any deaths, and none of the deaths made the papers, despite the fact that she had CSU comb one of the rooms so thoroughly they ripped apart furniture. If nothing else, there should be gossip about CSU coming in and ripping apart a room like that.” John’s eyes focused on nothing while you watched him think. “I’m willing to bet, if we did a search on the men who supposedly died, we’d find they didn’t exist. Unless they were backstopped—”

You interrupted yourself with a gasp.

“Charlie, that little _bitch_ , I could _kill_ her!” you exclaimed, the whole plan unfolding in front of your eyes.

“Charlie?” John asked, looking forlorn as you jumped out of his lap.

“Oh, my God, or Chuck, or whatever, I can’t believe the nerve of that little nerd!” you ranted. “Maybe a week or so ago, she was bugging me because she thought something was going on between us and I shut her down.” Now, you were pacing, seeing how all the pieces fit together. “And she _let it go_. Charlie _never_ lets _anything_ go! She must have roped Jody into this, and would have definitely gone over it with Dean, who then went and talked to you, and then got us up here!” You sat down hard on the bed, staring at John. “This was a total setup! Stick us together for a week in a romantic resort and force us to admit our feelings. Holy _shit_ , we’ve been played!”

Both of you stared at each other while the pieces fell into place for John. Instead of being angry, though, John started laughing.

You stood up and practically waved your arms in the air in your fervor. “John! How can you not be mad at them! And you can bet Bobby and Ellen are in on it, too! Why aren’t you pissed as hell?”

John was still laughing as he stood up and approached you, wrapping his arms around you and looking into your angry face with a wide grin.

“Because, darlin’, it worked.”

You blinked once, then again, your anger completely dissipating in the face of the truth. It may have been a low-down, dirty trick, and everything you’d ordered your friend not to do, but it had worked. The truth was in how the two of you were standing in the middle of your hotel room, arms wrapped around each other, grinning at each other like idiots.

“Yeah, it did, didn’t it?” you said, much more quietly now that you were back in the moment, feeling John’s love for you all the way into your bones.

John leaned down and kissed you again, his arms tight around you, one hand sliding up into your hair. When you both needed air, he shifted your head to the side, so he could taste your neck, his lips and tongue sending a wave of want and need to your core and weakening your knees.

“God, John, remind me to send Charlie a fruit basket,” you whimpered as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin from your jaw to your shoulder. His chuckle reverberated through your skin and sent a shiver down your spine while his beard raised goosebumps.

“I actually have a better way in mind to get back at them, but I’d really rather not talk about that right now,” John grumbled while he began fumbling with your clothing. “I’ve waited too damn long for this to spend another minute talking about Charlie.”

You grunted in agreement while you freed John from his dress pants. Clothing flew across the room as you moved towards the bed, the two of you trying to keep your lips attached while tearing at the fabric. By the time you both hit the bed, John falling on top of you, all that was left were your panties and John’s boxers. You scrambled up the bed until you hit the pillows, John crawling over you looking downright predatory as he watched your breasts shift with every move you made. When you stopped, so did he, latching onto one nipple with his mouth while you shoved at his boxers.

His mouth was so skilled, you wondered if he might be able to make you come without even touching between your thighs. Finally free from his clothing, you grasped his cock in your hand and began gently pumping, enjoying the groan he released as you swiped your thumb over the tip. John roughly pulled your hand away and dropped his hips against yours, letting you frame him with your thighs.

John spoke into the crook of your neck. “Honey, it’s been so long, and you’re so fucking hot, I’m worried I’m gonna embarrass myself here,” John teased, his words and whiskers sending more bolts of heat to your core and making you writhe beneath him. “Please, just let me make this good for you, and we can worry about me later, huh?”

If he expected an answer, he shouldn’t have squeezed your breast while rutting into your thigh, his thigh pressing deliciously between your legs. He was all hard angles and muscle against your softness, making your back arch so your chest pressed against his. The feel of the hair on his chest and the roughness of his hands on your skin, sensitized after all the spa treatments, was overloading your senses.

John kept growling in your ear while his entire body seemed to press, rub, and rut against yours. “Wanted this for so fucking long. Hated that anyone else ever got to see you or touch you. You’re mine, Y/N. _Mine._ ”

He shifted his thigh, so it pressed harder against your clit, while sucking yet another new mark onto your neck. You were surrounded by everything John, the feel, the smell, and the sounds he made making you feel drunk on him. He rutted into you, letting you grind on his thigh while your body wound up higher and higher. His beard tickled your ear as he let loose a stream of encouragement mixed with curses. “So fucking beautiful, baby. Got me so hard it fucking hurts. Just want to make you come. Come on, baby, come for me,” he commanded, and your orgasm burst from you out of nowhere, making you cry out his name and dig your newly manicured nails into his back.

“God, sweetheart, you make the sexiest fucking noises,” he growled as you came down from your high. He kissed you again, taking what little breath you had away, before slowly moving down your body. “This time I wanna see you, baby. I wanna watch you come apart.”

He pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them over his shoulder with that patented John Winchester cocky grin, then settled between your legs, taking a moment to kiss up your thighs. The feel of his beard made you shiver while his lips and tongue warmed you. When he reached the apex, he dove right in, groaning as he licked and sucked, sending vibrations through your body that ended as tingles in your hands and feet.

“Oh, shit, John!” you cried out when he plunged his fingers inside of you and began thrusting while he sucked on your clit, his fingers crooked at exactly the right angle. It hadn’t taken him long to find all your buttons and he was pushing each and every one of them to drive you to the edge. His fingers stretched you as he rubbed the spot that made you cry out the loudest while he worked on your clit, alternating between sucking it and flicking it with his tongue. In next to no time, you were falling over your edge, this orgasm eclipsing the first completely as you clutched at the sheets and screamed John’s name amidst a string of curses.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful when you come,” John said after he licked his fingers clean from your release.

The room was practically spinning as you caught your breath once again. John’s words buzzed through your mind while the smell and feel of him made you sure this had to be a dream. Too out of it to do much of anything, you stared up at John hovering over you and clenched his biceps in your hands. His eyes were so dark, but so loving, and his beard was shiny with your arousal.

“It’s always been you, John,” you said, your voice rough from screaming his name. “Everyone else? I always wished they were you. I’ve been yours since day one.”

John swooped down to kiss you, distracting you from his hands lining himself up and notching the head of his cock at your entrance. Your kiss went lax as he pushed into you, the stretch of him inside of you stealing your breath. He pulled your knee further up his side, tilting you beneath him, while he pulled back out and then slammed in again, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars. As he slowly built up a rhythm, you dug your fingers into his arms and his back, moaning obscenities amidst cries of his name and incoherent noises.

“Fuck, John! Shit… oh, yes… please, John!” you moaned, desperately wanting more and frustrated by how in control he seemed to be.

“Baby girl, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, picking up his pace in response to your pleas. “Wanna feel you, sweetheart. Wanna feel all of you.” He was grunting as he slammed into you, the sound of his hips meeting your ass almost as loud as your moans.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hooking your feet together behind his back as one hand clutched at his shoulder and the other tangled in his hair, so you could force his lips back onto yours. When one of his hands grabbed your breast, kneading it roughly and pinching your nipple, you almost screamed into his mouth as your back arched against him. His hand moved from your breast down to your clit, and he broke off your kiss right before his thumb began rubbing in time with his thrusts.

“Yes, John… right there! Right there!” you gasped, that familiar tingling building at the base of your spine. “Fuck! Keep going!”

“C’mon, baby girl, let me feel you come around my cock like a good girl. Come for me, darlin'!”

The sensation built and built, winding you up farther and farther until you finally exploded, your back arching into him as your body convulsed. You spasmed around him, and the pressure of you clamping down on him sparked his orgasm. It punched out of him with a sharp cry as he seemed to get bigger inside you, prolonging your own peak. Warmth flooded inside of you as he filled you, and then his thrusts lessened in speed and intensity. Pleasure rippled through your body, settling in your limbs as you dropped your legs, leaving his hips still framed by your thighs. You tightened your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he did the same in yours.

“Love you so much, John,” you whimpered in his ear while gripping the sweat-slicked skin of his back. “Always loved you.”

John rubbed his beard against the skin of your neck, tickling you until you giggled and lurched beneath him, forcing his softening cock from your body. You both groaned at the loss, but he didn’t move right away. “Love you too, darlin’. Always did.”


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and John have a talk.

John shifted off of you and you gave him a tender kiss before heading into the bathroom to clean up. While you were gone, he cleaned up the comforter and himself as best he could, and he was settled between the sheets waiting for you when you came back. You snuggled up against him, enjoying the feel of your sore muscles relaxing against his warmth. Both of you lay there quietly for a long time, just enjoying the feel of being together.

“I never thought I’d get to have this,” you said quietly. “It might take some getting used to.”

“Darlin’, you deserve so much better than me, but I’ll do my best to take care of you,” John replied, his voice gruff with emotion.

He was quiet for so long, you thought he’d possibly fallen asleep when his voice startled you.

“Day one, huh?” He added what could only be described as a lecherous chuckle, making you smack him and laugh with him.

“I was 15, and you’ve always been the hottest thing on two legs, mister!” you joked, trying to resist the severe blush rushing to your cheeks. When your cheeks started to cool, you worked up the courage to return the question. “You said years. Should I know how long we’ve been stupid by not being together?”

John’s chest expanded against you as he took a deep breath and sighed. “God, I’m not sure I can pinpoint when it started, just when I realized it.” You kissed his chest to encourage him and he continued. “Sam was in second or third grade, Dean would’ve been in sixth or seventh, and I came back to find the three of you playing in a playground across the street from the house. I was so mad because the hunt had gone badly. I lost a kid probably somewhere around the boys’ age, and I just kept seeing Dean and Sam dead like that kid the whole drive back. To see you playing with them was just such a relief, but it scared me, too. I knew something was coming for Sammy. I knew whatever killed Mary really wanted Sam, and if we were gonna protect him, the boys had to be prepared. As much as I loved seeing them play, I was just so scared, all I could think of was that they should have been training.

“And then I saw Dean’s face, and he had a shiner, and all that fear just came rushing back. I was about to just blow up, but you cut me off, protected the boys from me blowing up at them, and calmed me down so damn quick. It was like magic. Before, I’d thought you were beautiful. I’d thought you were so great with the boys and I’d wished I could have you for them full-time, but I couldn’t ask you to give up your life. Before, I just thought you were good for my boys, but that night, you were good for me, too. That’s when I realized that I loved you.”

You let his words sink in, remembering bits and pieces of that night so long ago. “I would have, you know. I wanted to. If you’d asked, I’d have stayed with you and the boys full-time.”

“No, honey. I stayed awake all night that night, trying to rationalize me asking you to stay, and I just couldn’t do it. You were, what, 21… 22 years old? I couldn’t justify asking you to give up finding someone who wasn’t a broken old man like me and maybe having a life of your own. You deserved to find someone better,” John argued.

You pulled out of his hold and sat up, too much emotion running through you to handle it lying down. _Eyes closed, deep breath in, let it out slowly._

The deep breath calmed you somewhat, but you found yourself chewing on the inside of your cheeks in frustration, anyway. “I know hindsight is 20/20 and all, but you need to know, the boys _were_ my life. They’ve always been my life. Whenever I’ve been separated from them, it’s like the world loses all its color. I tried moving on. I tried relationships. I tried finding a hunting partner, and when that blew up in my face, I tried settling down, and then that turned out to be a fucking joke. The only times I’ve ever felt like I was doing what I was supposed to do was when I was with Dean and Sam.”

John sat up next to you and took you in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted something more for you. I thought if I let you go, you could have it. I didn’t know I was hurting you.”

Settling into his arms, you allowed him to comfort you and accepted his apology. Yes, it had hurt, but you couldn’t change the past.

“You know, I was so pissed at you when I figured out what you’d done with Azazel. Giving up your life and going to Hell without even talking it over with me? If I could, I would have brought you back just to filet you, myself.” John’s chest lurched against you as he snorted a laugh. “It should have been me, John,” you croaked. “They needed you more than me.”

He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you roughly, then rained kisses down all over your face before crushing you to his chest. “No, Y/N, no. It kills me to know that you’ve been down there at all, even though you weren’t on the rack. Don’t you dare ever say anything like that again.”

A long moment passed, and John pulled you back down, so you were once again lying in each other’s arms. Long-held doubts continued to bubble to the surface of your mind.

“You know, I’m going to have to spend some time down there every so often. I mean, usually, Crowley just needs me in the asylum, so it’s not that big of a deal, but there will be times I’ll need to go to Hell with him.” John stiffened in your arms. “Can you handle that? Can you still love me, even now that I’m, well, not human?”

A large hand stroked your hair with a steady, soothing motion. “You mean, can I love a witch who’s badass enough to actually be the Queen of Hell?”

John’s tone was hard to read, and you were too afraid to lift your head and look at his expression. Keeping your head on his chest, you nodded.

“Apparently, I can, because I do. I have to admit, at first, I wanted it out of you, and I would have done anything to get it out of you. But I’ve seen you work it, now. I’ve seen how ferocious you are, knowing that you are the most powerful thing in the room, and it is goddamn beautiful. When you exploded that demon just for snapping Mrs. Mayer’s neck, you looked so sexy I almost busted the zipper in my pants! If it hadn’t caught the house on fire, we might have gotten to this point a little sooner,” he joked, rubbing his hands up and down your bare back. “I can’t say I’ll always be happy with Crowley in the picture, but I get it, and I’ll get over it. You’re too important.”

Silence fell again while you processed what he’d said and decided if you really wanted to ask one last question. It burned within you, though, and wouldn’t be denied.

“You and Mary shared a heaven,” you mumbled, not even sure he could hear you.

“Yeah?” John asked, obviously not understanding what you were getting at.

“Back during the first apocalypse, a couple of hunters killed Dean and Sam while I was helping Bobby with research, and they went to Heaven. When they told me about it later, they said that everyone gets their own heaven, and only certain special cases get to share, like soulmates.”

You could almost hear the gears in John’s brain working as he figured out what you were really asking. When he finally got it, he shifted from being next to you to hovering over you, his hips slotted between your legs while he leaned on his elbows above you. His eyes were serious as he looked down at you.

“Are you asking me how I can love you if Mary was my soulmate?”

Unable to speak in the face of his intensity, you nodded.

Instead of answering right away, he leaned down and kissed you. His lips teased yours open, so his tongue could dance against yours. The kiss seemed to last forever, and you felt your body waking up as his cock swelled between you. You were breathless when he finally broke away, the two of you gasping for air as he nuzzled your nose, your foreheads pressed together.

“Asking me how I can love you if Mary is my soulmate is like asking me how I can love Sam since Dean’s my first-born. Not to sound sappy, but I’ve got enough love for both you and Mary’s memory.” He kissed you again, this time more gently, then backed away enough that he could meet your eyes. “For the record, Mary knew how I felt about you. We had a lot of time to talk in Heaven.”

Your eyes opened so wide you’d thought they’d bug out. “You told Mary about me?”

John laughed at your expression and shock. “Hell, yeah. You were a big part of our lives after she died. And with how I felt about you, I couldn’t hide it from her. She knew.” For a moment, you got lost in his cocky smile and the twinkle in his eyes, but it faded just a little as you watched. “That one night we had back on earth before Amara, she told me she approved of you. Said that she couldn’t have chosen anyone better for me or our boys.”

You closed your eyes to process everything John had said, enjoying the feel of John’s beard as he nuzzled your neck. He shifted his hips against yours, pushing his hardening cock against your mound until you gasped.

“Now, can we stop talking for a little while? We can plot our revenge on Jody and the gang back home later. It’s been far too long since I’ve been inside you.”

John seemed to accept the groan you released as answer enough.


	64. Chapter 64

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and John get a little payback from those meddling kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @littlegreenplasticsoldier for help with the sass in this chapter.

> You: If you come clean right now about this ‘hunt’, I won’t drive over there right now and kick your ass.
> 
> Jody: What do you mean? What’s going on? Is everything okay?
> 
> You: Funny. Of course, everything’s okay, because there isn’t a hunt here, is there?
> 
> Jody: What do you mean no hunt? People died! It’s a hunt!
> 
> You: If this is your weak attempt at matchmaking, Jody...
> 
> Jody: No! No way! It’s a hunt! It’s totally a hunt!
> 
> You: I have gotten a ridiculous amount of sleep, have eaten a lot of really good, really healthy food. I have been massaged, exfoliated, and exercised. I’ve literally never felt better. I will take you down in 0.045 seconds if you don’t tell me what’s going on right fucking now.
> 
> Jody: It was Charlie’s idea.
> 
> You: I hope Charlie’s taken a fuck ton of cash from the Nazi bank accounts she’s been hitting lately, because John and I just ordered our third bottle of champagne, tonight. If he orders more, we’re not even gonna drink it. We’re gonna bathe in it.
> 
> Jody: Sounds fair to me.
> 
> You: I’ll text you later with details of how you’re going to help me get back at them. John’s got the room service menu and an evil gleam in his eye. I’d better go.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You: Another body dropped, but we’ve got no more of an idea what’s going on than we did before we got here. MO’s changed, too. Something took a bite out of this guy. Gonna be here a few more days.
> 
> Dean: Since when are people getting eaten up there? I thought it was all heart attacks?
> 
> You: I don’t know, kiddo. I saw the body. There were bits missing. And I swear what was left twitched while I was watching.
> 
> Dean: What was left? Twitched??
> 
> You: Yeah. No biggie. Just need to adjust our witch theory a bit, I guess.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Dean: Y/N said a body dropped? WTF Jody!!!!
> 
> Jody: Well, it’s not like it was a whole body.
> 
> Dean: THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE AN ACTUAL HUNT!!!!
> 
> Jody: It wasn’t! Until it was! Don’t worry! We’ll kill the monster like we always do!
> 
> Dean: They’re supposed to be getting together, not hunting!
> 
> Jody: Technically, they were hunting before, too. I mean, this doesn’t change anything for them, if you think about it.
> 
> Dean: THEY CAN’T GET TOGETHER IF SOMETHING KILLS THEM!
> 
> Jody: They’re good hunters, Dean, they’re not gonna die. Besides, the couple that hunts together, stays together? Right?
> 
> * * *
> 
> John: Need research. Heart attacks, eats victims alive, can cause memory loss and temporary paralysis in bystanders, steals jewelry, and freaks out witches.
> 
> Sam: Freaks out witches?
> 
> John: Yeah. Y/N keeps saying she feels weird. Been on edge since we got here. She nearly exploded a bellhop the other day because he startled her.
> 
> Sam: On it.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You: We ordered caviar. I don’t like it.
> 
> Jody: I don’t think anyone actually likes caviar, they just pretend they do to feel like they’re better than the rest of us.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You: If we ever get done with this fucking hunt, don’t ask your father about raccoons. Turns out he has a little phobia. No biggie. Just don’t mention them.
> 
> Dean: ???
> 
> You: Better not to mention rodents in general, maybe. Especially their babies.
> 
> Dean: What happened???
> 
> You: Nothing! Nothing to worry about - the ghoul’s dead! We’re fine! Everyone’s fine!
> 
> You: I mean, there was a moment when I thought we’d need more dental floss, but it turns out the mint-flavored stuff works just as well as regular!
> 
> Dean: WHAT’S GOING ON UP THERE???
> 
> You: NOTHING WE’RE FINE!!
> 
> * * *
> 
> You: The guy who runs the register at the pharmacy is so nice. He ordered in more of the nice condoms we like special!
> 
> Jody: He was my third-grade teacher. Please don’t talk about him and condoms in the same sentence.
> 
> Jody: I can’t believe they keep letting him work at his age.
> 
> Jody: Glad you guys are doing so well.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You: I love Jody. She forgave me for accidentally blowing up Mrs. Buckner.
> 
> Dean: Who’s Mrs. Buckner and why did you blow her up????
> 
> You: She was just a guest. I thought she was a rougarou, what with the teeth marks on the new victim. Turns out the rougarou was MR. Buckner. We ended up burning down one of the outbuildings, so at least there’s no mess to clean up.
> 
> Dean: Now a rougarou, too??? Does this mean you’re coming home?
> 
> You: Not exactly? Someone put up warding around the place, and it wasn’t me or John, so there’s still something going on here.
> 
> You: And Bunny and Walter’s Mini Pom went missing yesterday. I’m at least 80% sure Mr. Buckner didn’t eat it. It was maybe 3 pounds soaking wet and he preferred fattier meat. From the looks of the warding, I’m concerned Bitsy was a sacrifice.
> 
> Dean: What is this place? Monster Vacation Land?
> 
> You: Are you saying the place might be run by monsters for monsters? I mean, that would make some kind of sense. It would explain why they’re so good at covering up deaths, so they don’t hit the papers.
> 
> Dean: Alright, that’s it. We’re coming up.
> 
> You: Per the King of Hell, I’m the most powerful witch on the planet. I think I can take out a hotel full of monsters. No sweat. Don’t waste the ridiculous amounts of gas Baby would guzzle to get you here.
> 
> Dean: Don’t you insult my Baby! You’ve got 24 hours to finish this, and then I’m packing everyone into the car and we’re coming up there locked and loaded.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You: Don’t tell Dean, but I need some research help.
> 
> Sam: Why can’t I tell Dean?
> 
> You: Because he’s gone all “You better be home by curfew, young lady” on me, and a ghost attacked your father last night.
> 
> Sam: It attacked Dad?? Is he okay?
> 
> You: Umm, yeah? Just a bit shaken up. Like a martini. Feels like this ghost may have been a witch. Can you find out if South Dakota has any famous witches that died? Like, in the 80’s. She looked like a Madonna reject from the Papa Don’t Preach video.
> 
> Sam: An 80’s witch from South Dakota? On it.
> 
> You: And if you find anything about ghost witches, or witch ghosts, (whosts? gitches?) that might be useful, too.
> 
> Sam: Got it. Be careful.
> 
> You: You know me, I always kick the dead thing’s ass!
> 
> * * *
> 
> You: Well, this has been fun, but Dean is threatening to drive up here, so I guess it’s time to go home.
> 
> Jody: Gotta face reality sometime.
> 
> You: I hope the bunker’s bedroom walls are as thick as they look.
> 
> Jody: I didn’t need to know that, but I’m oddly glad to hear it. Drive safe.
> 
> You: Thanks, Jody. Will do.
> 
> * * *
> 
> John: We’re on our way home. The Monster’s Haven Resort & Spa is no more. Y/N is unconscious, but she should be fine.
> 
> Dean: Unconscious??? “No more?” WTF happened???
> 
> * * *
> 
> John: She’s not waking up. Getting worried.
> 
> Dean: What happened???
> 
> Dean: Dad??
> 
> Dean: Get her here. I’ll call Cas and get Sam and Bobby on research.

* * *

Ten minutes away from the bunker, you stopped by the side of the road to have one more good stretch before the craziness began. John joined you outside of the car and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and setting his chin on your shoulder.

“You sure about this? I’m not saying they don’t deserve it, but it is a tad cruel,” he said, the vibrations from his voice and the tickle of his beard on your ear sending goosebumps down your body.

“So sure. I specifically told almost everyone in that bunker to keep their nose out of it. So _even though_ it worked out, they deserve this.”

John shrugged and pulled your flannel down your shoulder, so he could kiss one of the many marks he’d left on your skin. “Your call, sweetheart.” His arms tightened around you and he groaned, sending a rush of arousal throughout your body. You wondered idly if you would always be swept away by the least of his touches. “I know we can’t hide from them forever, but this sure feels nice.”

You turned in his arms to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, gazing at his face like you hadn’t already memorized every line and curve. “I love you, and once we teach the kids a lesson, we can get busy moving your stuff into my room and getting on with the rest of our lives.”

John’s teeth shone in the sun as he smiled. “I thought you were moving into my room, since it’s farther away from the boys and we didn’t want to make them listen to us?”

A suppressed giggle burst from your lips. “I changed my mind. They’ve got headphones. They can use them,” you teased, leaning in to kiss John.

The kiss was warm and gentle, just reaffirming how much you loved each other. When you separated, John smacked you on the ass as you got back into the car, this time in the passenger seat, getting ready for the show you were about to put on.

Dean was standing in the garage next to the Impala waiting for you when John pulled in. He threw your door open, catching you as you almost fell out. You mumbled nonsense words while John gathered you up and carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you on the bed. You could hear every one of the bunker’s occupants crowd into your room while you stayed prone on the bed.

“She started mumbling shit an hour back, but her eyes still haven’t opened, and I haven’t understood a word she’s said,” John said, so much pain in his voice you wanted to get up and comfort him. _Good lord, the man can act!_

Both your hands were clasped tight to another, and you guessed that John and Dean had one each. When the palm of one hand was tickled, you knew which one belonged to John and had to resist the urge to look at him and smile.

“Dean? Sam?” you mumbled weakly, frowning and turning your head from side to side.

Dean’s worried voice was clear in your ear. “We’re here, Bigs. Are you okay? What happened? Is this a curse?”

“She did some huge spell,” John said, still tickling your palm, “everything not human exploded all at once, brought the entire place down. We got out of there before the fuel tanks for the generators exploded, thankfully.”

“Bobby? Charlie?” you mumbled, furrowing your brow even further.

“We’re here, too, Y/N,” you heard Charlie say while Bobby grunted, and a hand landed on your leg.

You mumbled gibberish under your breath, writhing a little on the bed.

“What is she saying?” Sam’s voice came from John’s side of the bed.

“Dammit, I don’t know!” John snapped. “Except for your names just now, nothing she’s said has even sounded like English!”

You felt someone getting closer while you whispered more gibberish, and then felt John squeeze your hand twice. That was your signal.

Without warning, you opened your eyes wide, sat up straight, and yelled, “A _HA!!!”_

Everyone jumped back, Sam and Charlie almost tripping over Bobby and Ellen while Jo actually got knocked over onto your desk. You and John just started laughing, John climbing onto the bed behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

The crowd all looked thunderstruck as you kept giggling, everyone wound tight until they all realized it was all a joke.

Dean, being the closest to you, swatted you on the arm and yelled. “Fucking Hell, Bigs!! We’ve been worried sick about you guys for DAYS!!”

You glared at the older of your boys and wagged a finger in his face. “And I warned you and just about everyone else in this room to keep their fucking noses out of my love life, but you just couldn’t,” you declared, then turning and pointing at everyone else individually. “Could you???”

Everyone hung their heads a little, except Jo. “Hey, I told them all you’d be pissed. I have nothing to apologize for,” she declared with a shrug.

You turned to her with a smile. “Then you get to share in the spoils we took from the mini bar,” you offered with a chuckle.

Jo high-fived you and then settled down on the bed next to you. “Works for me!” she said with a shit-eating grin at the rest of the crowd in the room.

Sam still seemed a little high-strung. “So, there really wasn’t a hunt? No witch ghost or rougarou or ghoul or monster hotel?” You and John both shook your heads with grins almost splitting your faces. “So, then it worked?” Sam asked with a small smile forming on his face.

Heat flushed your face as you looked at John next to you, basking in the warmth of his smile. He leaned over and kissed you gently, just a short, chaste kiss for the benefit of everyone who had obviously worked so hard to make it happen. Awws and ewws echoed around you, but you didn’t care. John’s arm was around your shoulders and he was looking into your eyes with the same love you had felt for him for most of your life.

You heard slapping noises, so looked around and saw money changing hands. “You all _bet_ on us???” you exclaimed, watching Charlie and Dean collect most of the money.

Charlie tried to shrug innocently. “Honestly, there’s been a pool going in the entire hunter network for a couple of months, now. Pretty sure we’re gonna be starting Garth’s new pup’s college fund.”

Everyone laughed, but all you could see was the way John was looking at you like you’d hung the moon. He kissed you again, and you knew you’d never been happier in your entire life.


	65. Chapter 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bunker gets a special visitor at Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: This exact scene was in my mind before I wrote the first word of this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Looking around the library, seeing everyone you loved smiling and laughing, made your eyes fill. For the first time since your parents had died, you got a real Christmas, tree and all. One of the tables was filled with goodies, there were bits of wrapping paper and stray bows scattered throughout the room, and everyone was talking or showing someone one of their new toys. You were perched in the corner in one of the plush wingback chairs, pretending to work on the jigsaw puzzle Ellen had bought for Sam. Really, you were enjoying seeing everyone you loved so happy.

 _Hey, Chuck,_ you prayed, _Cas has told us how inaccurate Christmas is, but we’re still having a damn good time. I know you’re busy, but if you have a moment and want to hang out, we’ve got an extra place for you at the table._

Not really expecting an answer, you went back to searching for the next edge piece in the row you were working on. John came over and gave you a kiss, pulling the piece you were looking for out of thin air and fitting it easily into its spot. You rolled your eyes and sighed with a slight shake of your head. John chuckled and kissed your forehead before he left you to your search for the next piece.

Rather than being startled by Chuck’s sudden appearance, he just seemed to ease into the chair opposite you, as though he came from nowhere. You smiled to greet him.

“I wasn’t sure you’d accept the invite. Figured you’ve got plenty to keep you busy these days, or maybe you were playing hooky again?”

He chuckled. “Well, when the Queen of Hell prays, I figure it’s got to be important. Better answer,” he replied with a gentle smile and a shrug.

Horrified, you began to argue, but he put up a hand to stop you.

“It’s okay, Y/N! I approve! Hell’s never been in better hands than it is with you and Crowley. Just do me a favor?”

You nodded. If God wants you to do something, you do it.

“For every time you use your magic to destroy, use it to create. Keep your balance that way. Also, I happen to know there are several spell books in this library with transfiguration spells that would serve just as well as the ones you’ve been using on demons without the, uh, fiery consequences.”

Heat took over your face as you looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“I mean,” he continued, “demonic toads might seem unoriginal, but whatever.”

You gave him a smile while you tried to contain a giggle and then nodded at the puzzle in front of you.

“Would it be cheating if you worked on this with me?” you asked.

Chuck gave you one of his gentle smiles. “It would be cheating if you used a spell.” He pursed his lips and considered your question more. “It would be cheating if I used my powers, but I can suppress them in order to savor the spirit of the endeavor.”

You nodded to the array of pieces in front of you. “In that case, I’m looking for an edge piece that will fit in this bush over here. It should have a peek of sidewalk on it, if my guess is correct.”

The two of you searched through the pieces quietly for a few minutes, each one of you putting a couple of pieces together every now and then. No one seemed to notice that Chuck had arrived, and you wondered if anyone else could see him, or if he was just there for you.

“If they wanted to, they could see me, but they’re all content with whatever is occupying them right now. They’ll find me later.”

Once again, you nodded, only surprised that you weren’t very surprised that Chuck knew your thoughts. Trying to keep your thoughts blank, you searched for the next piece.

“I know you have a question for me, Y/N,” Chuck stated plainly. “I mean, I don’t think it’s occurred to you to ask me, but I know you have a question that’s bothering you, and I’d be willing to answer it if you want me to.”

The one thought had been nagging at the back of your mind for the past few blissful weeks came to the forefront and you debated if you wanted the answer. Call it curiosity, call it insecurity, you needed to know. Decision made, you gazed into Chuck’s kind eyes.

“If John and Mary were soulmates, how can he love me the way he does?” Your eyes dropped as heat filled your cheeks. _Such a foolish question._ “I mean, I know you can love people who aren’t your soulmate, but I always thought once you lost a soulmate, it would be like becoming color blind. Yet John loves me like I’m made of rainbows.” More heat filled your cheeks at the sappy sentiment, but Chuck seemed to enjoy it.

“Well, you’re not wrong about how he loves you.” Another smile crossed his face as he scratched at his beard. “He always did, too. No matter how he did or didn’t act on it, know that.”

The warmth in your cheeks spread to your chest and you felt like someone had wrapped you up in a soft blanket.

“Where you’re wrong is in your concept of soulmates.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small crystal ball. “For some reason, humans seem to think that I created souls, and then broke them in half.” With an ease that was almost startling, he took the ball in his hands and broke it, one half in each hand, a jagged break showing where the two halves used to be joined. “And so, they spend all of their lives looking for this one person they think can make them whole again.” He put the two halves together and they sealed back up into one clear ball, not even a trace of the break showing.

“That’s a nice fairy tale, but it causes a lot of pain in the world. If I could change one misconception, that would be pretty high on the list.” He put the ball back in his pocket and then rested his hands on the table between you. “When I created souls, I made each one whole all in itself. But souls aren’t like that crystal ball, they’re more like these puzzle pieces.” His hands idly moved around a couple of the pieces. “Each one looks different, and each one has its place in the big picture.” He slid a handful of pieces to an empty spot on the table. “Some people are like corner pieces. They only have space to connect with a couple of other people.” The corner piece turned into a picture of John, the portion of sidewalk that was on it previously fading into the background. Chuck took two other pieces and fit them together with John’s piece; one had a picture of you and the other had a picture of Mary. “There are other pieces that might come close, but they wouldn’t fit like those two pieces.” A middle piece with a picture of Kate appeared and Chuck set it in the middle of the corner created by the pieces representing you, John, and Mary. It seemed to fit, held in place by your piece and Mary’s piece, but it really wasn’t attached John’s piece.

With a swipe of his hand, Kate’s piece looked like sidewalk and grass again, and he set it aside. “Some people, are edge pieces, and can connect with more than two.” Pointing at your piece, he attached Sam on the edge next to you, and Dean where Kate’s piece had been. “And some people are middle pieces,” he tapped Dean’s piece, “and can fit with four or more people.” You and Mary were both attached to Dean, leaving two slots open. He fit Bobby with Dean and Sam and attached Jo to Dean’s remaining side.

“Now, as you can see, soulmates aren’t always romantic. Soulmates can be family, like Mary and Dean, or a different kind of family, like Bobby is to Dean and Sam.” When you nodded, he broke all the pieces apart and they returned to looking like sidewalk and grass again. “Soulmates can also be friends, like Cas and Keith, and the jigsaw puzzle metaphor is actually kind of limited, because souls are more three-dimensional in how they fit together, and some folks can connect to way more than just four people, like Dean, but you get the idea,” Chuck said with a flustered shake of his head and a wave of his hand. “And that’s not even getting into the damage that gets done to souls as they age and how that reshapes them over time, so that someone who might be a soulmate when you’re born might not fit, anymore, when you’re thirty-five. I mean, the math alone is staggering.”

Chuck’s seeming awe at the magnitude of math involved brought a chuckle out of you.

“So, you see, yes, Mary and John were soulmates. But you and John are soulmates, too. And you and Dean, and you and Sam, and actually, you and Keith were supposed to be, but John bent you a bit out of shape, so you don’t fit with Keith the way you would have if you’d never met John.” He took in your widened eyes and slack jaw and rushed to cover. “But I wouldn’t tell John that, or he’ll never let you go shopping alone again.”

A snort of laughter surprised you as it escaped, and you covered your mouth to keep from doing it again. Chuck seemed to almost blush as you stared at him in awe. Nervously, he began putting all the puzzle pieces back where they’d been, carefully fitting a couple of them into the established corner. After a moment of processing everything he’d told you, you went back to quietly searching for pieces, too.

“A long time ago, I heard you praying,” Chuck confided, freezing your hand as you reached across the table. “You had moved in with George, and you were close to getting the white picket fence that you weren’t sure you wanted, but it seemed like a nice idea. Anyway, you prayed for a sign. You asked me to give you something specific to prove that that was where you were supposed to be.” Chuck’s eyes were so steady on you, you could feel his question boring into your soul. “I wasn’t inclined to answer prayers back then, so I admit, I ignored you.” He broke his gaze with you and went back to idly moving puzzle pieces around the table. “If you were to make that same prayer now, though, you would probably get an answer.”

Your eyes were glued to his face as he quickly fit pieces together faster than any mortal man could. But he was God, who’d forgotten to suppress his Godly power to make the game more fun because he was offering you something you’d given up wanting at least fifteen years ago.

You looked around the room and saw Dean kissing Jo, and Sam reading a book, and John staring at a computer screen while Charlie gesticulated wildly. Looking back at Chuck, you took a steadying breath.

“I’m closer to 50 than 40, you know. And John is over 50. I know we’re not in Guinness Book territory, but we’re close.” You sighed. “When I prayed for that particular sign back then, I was looking to replace what I now have. Beyond that, I don’t know how John would feel about that. Or the boys.” Dean and Jo separated enough to grab some cookies and go look over John’s shoulder. Chuck just smiled that gentle smile of his. “Can I get back to you on that?”

He laughed and nodded. “Sure. You know how to reach me,” he joked.

The curtain of solitude you and Chuck had been under seemed to lift, as Ellen walked into the room.

“Dinner’s ready! Come grab a plate!” When her eyes fell on Chuck, she smiled. “Good to see you made it, sweetie. Got a place ready for ya, if you’re hungry.”

Chuck nodded and got up to join the throng headed towards the kitchen, greeting people along the way. You hung back, listening to the excited chatter of your family. John came up behind you and put his arms around your middle, kissing the sensitive area where your neck met your shoulder.

“So, what were you talking to God about so seriously?”

“Nothing urgent,” you replied, sinking into the warmth of John’s embrace. “Right now, I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end. I'm so happy with the responses you all have given me and how much you guys have enjoyed this trip with me. There will be timestamps. I'm already working on one. So, if you have requests, leave them in the comments, and I'll get to them, eventually! Thank you all for sticking with this and with me! ♥


	66. Timestamp 1 - 2003 - John & Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Chapter 56 from John's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while to figure out because I realized when I started this that my original premise was a bit flawed. Special thanks to @littlegreenplasticsoldier for helping me find a way out of the corner I'd painted myself into, to @manawhaat for helping with the gun bits, and to both for always encouraging me and helping me do better, even when they're too busy!

_2003_

_“You **bitch**.”_

_John’s hackles rose, even before he realized that the dick was talking to Y/N. When he matched the voice to a face standing next to the table, leaning over her, leering and grimacing, it took everything he had not to react. Y/N’s face went abruptly and completely pale, her eyes frozen on the table. John looked from her terrified face to the dick’s angry sneer and plotted out the exact hit to his throat that would break his windpipe._

_“Because of you, Bobby Singer has spread lies about me to every hunter in the fucking country!” The man’s finger was now getting dangerously close to Y/N’s face, but instead of breaking it like John expected, she flinched. “Because of you, I couldn’t get help on a ghost clusterfuck in upstate New York and broke my damn leg!”_

_Dean shoved into John’s side, wanting John to move, but he held his son back. He’d learned not to interfere with Y/N when she dealt with assholes. They needed to give her the time and space to do her thing. He watched her, though, waiting for that spark he always saw when she cut them down. He waited for that twinkle in her eye she got when she was about to just filet them._

_But it didn’t come._

_“If Bobby says you’re bad news, there’s a good reason for it, you dick,” Dean snapped, still squirming next to John. John stayed still, though. He gave Dean a look hard enough to settle him, then checked on Y/N again._

_Still no movement._

_John had never seen her freeze like this. She’d faced monsters twice her size without fear or flinching, but this jackass had her stuck in her seat. John couldn’t even be sure she was breathing. Her eyes started to move back and forth, like a trapped animal looking for an escape, and a cold rage filled John. Whoever he was, he had hurt her. Somehow, he had broken her. John decided then, if she couldn’t take this guy apart piece by piece, he would do it for her._

_His first instinct was to start with that throat-punch he’d already planned and keep going until the douchebag was a twitching pile of pulp in the alley. The only downside was witnesses. So many witnesses. The bar was crowded, and not even a fake FBI badge would get him out of beating a man half to death. John swallowed down his anger. No, if he was going to do this properly, he would have to approach it like any other hunt: research, plan, and never let them see you coming._

_Pulling out a card, John scribbled his cell phone number on the back and sweet-talked Assface like the pro he was. The dick ate it right up and left the table fucking happy. When he was gone, John watched her, waiting for some clue as to who that guy was and what he’d done._

_Instead, he saw the panic blossom as she heaved a shuddering breath too deep to be normal. Without a word of explanation, she drained her beer and calmly walked out._

_“Dad! Let me out! Something’s wrong and I gotta go help her!” Dean pushed John, and John finally let his son out of the booth. As Dean raced outside, John pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialing._

_“What’s wrong, Winchester?”_

_So much for formalities. Normally, this is where John would sigh, but this time, he was barely breathing._

_“A hunter named Pete just called Y/N a bitch and blamed her for you blackballing him. I fully expected her to rip his dick off and feed it to him, like I’ve seen her do a thousand times before, but instead, she froze.”_

_John heard a muffled curse on the other end of the line._

_“What the fuck did he do to her, Bobby, and why is he still on two legs?”_

_Bobby sighed, and John heard rustling through the crappy phone connection. “Do you remember about five or six years ago when she disappeared for a few months?”_

_John remembered. At the time, he’d searched with everyone else, trying to calm his own concerns while hoping against hope she’d found someone and settled down. Buttoning down his feelings for her, his worry, hadn’t stopped the nightmares of finding her body in a shallow grave. When she’d surfaced, she’d been injured and was healing up at Bobby’s._

_“Yeah, she said she’d had a bad hunt, was in a coma for a while or something, and had some memory issues when she woke up.”_

_Bobby grunted. “I’m not one to break a confidence, but I’ll tell you this much. He’s the real story. The only reason she surfaced is because I got a call from a nurse in a hospital in Rapid City telling me she was there and needed help. He’s why she doesn’t hunt with men but you or me. He’s a danger to anyone that comes near him, and he’s standing only because she doesn’t want to admit she had anything to do with him.”_

_John ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Alright. Thanks, Bobby.” He snapped his phone shut and put it back into his pocket, questions and scenarios racing through his head._

_Y/N startled him when she sat down, but he covered it by emptying his beer. He focused on making easy conversation with her, watching the slight tremor in her hands as she spoke, seeing the glances at her surroundings, bracing for another attack. What had he done to her to make her so afraid???_

_“I could have told you not to hunt with Pete. He’s a danger. Makes mistakes but it’s never his fault. I spent a week in the hospital relearning how to digest solid food because of him.”_

_The scars on her stomach. The ones she was so self-conscious about. The ones she tried to hide when she needed stitches that one time. They weren’t ugly like most of her other scars, and now he knew why. They hadn’t been fixed with whiskey and dental floss. Whatever happened, HE did it to her._

_Dean was trying to distract her and get her laughing again. John needed to help. John put away his rage for later, and focused on having her right there with him, where she was safe._

_Later that night, after Y/N was asleep, he pulled Dean outside. “What did she tell you about him?”_

_Dean’s face was so expressive, John could almost read the story from his eyes alone. “She hunted with him for a while when Sam got too old to watch, anymore. He almost got her killed on a hunt. She called him an asshat and said it was her mistake.” He sighed, his brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen her that upset, Dad.” Dean scowled. “I get the feeling there’s more to the story than him just being a dick, but she ain’t talking.”_

_John clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “And we aren’t going to force her. If she wants to tell us, she’ll tell us. In the meantime, we’re just going to make sure we’re better than him, and we keep her safe. Got it?”_

_Dean nodded and headed back into the motel room, leaving John alone in the crisp night air with just his thoughts. Questions flooded his brain, each one angering him more than the last. Best case scenario, they were just hunting partners, no more. Somehow, he didn’t think that would result in the terror and shame he saw on her face earlier tonight, though. No, Pete had done more, and a plan to return the favor formed in John’s mind._

_***_

_A month later, after teaming up with Bobby and an associate of his who specialized in finding information people didn’t want found, John sent Dean and Y/N off on their own hunt and put his plan in motion. He called Pete and asked him to meet him up at a motel in Wisconsin for a Wendigo hunt. As Pete’s rusted-out Ford truck rumbled into the parking lot, John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steeling himself for keeping his cool while he dealt with Pete. He’d have to put on the show of his life if this was going to work._

_John greeted Pete with a friendly smile, tossed his gear bag in the back of his Sierra, and they drove off to the forest. When they ran out of road, both men grabbed their bags and started hiking. It wasn’t long before Pete was chatting with him like they were old friends._

_“So, Y/N’s with you, now, huh?”_

_John controlled even his urge to grit his teeth. “Not exactly. She hunts with me and my son. She watched my boys for me when they were kids, so when Sam went to college, she agreed to fill in. Not saying I’d refuse if she offered, but she doesn’t look at me twice. I’m a bit old to be on her radar, I think.”_

_Pete chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, she’s a feisty one, ain’t she? Hard to nail down unless you have just the right touch.” The two of them walked for a bit, following the trail John had mapped out, but Pete couldn’t stay quiet. “Want some tips on how to tap that from someone who’s been there, done that?” Pete’s eyebrows bounced up and down on his forehead while John swallowed down the bile rising in his throat._

_Very carefully, John forced himself to smile at Pete. “Normally, I’m not one to need advice with the ladies, if you know what I mean, but I do happen to be in the middle of a serious dry spell. Whatcha got for me?”_

_Pete puffed up, proud that the great John Winchester was asking for his advice. “Well, first thing you gotta do is break her down a little bit. She thinks she’s all that, high and mighty, better than the rest of us because she was raised in the life and did research with Singer. She thinks she knows everything, so you need to prove her wrong a few times. Point out her mistakes so she gets off that high horse. After you show her she’s just fucking human like the rest of us, then she’ll be more open to listening to you. And once she’s listening, she’ll let you slide right in.”_

_John coughed violently, trying to hide the urge to throw up his breakfast. Pete slapped his back, but John waved him off. “Swallowed a bug or somethin’,” he groused, using the excuse to clear his throat and spit out the ugly taste in his mouth. It persisted in spite of his efforts, though. This man, this pile of piss walking around in denim and flannel had Y/N in his bed. She gave him everything John had ever wanted, and instead of appreciating her for the treasure she was, this asshole tore her down and used her up. John didn’t know for sure everything he’d done to her, but he still wanted to rip every inch of skin that ever touched her off of his body and salt and burn it._

_They continued walking after John stopped coughing, but Pete didn’t say a word. Worried that he was losing his chance, he dived back in. “That’s all well and good, but she’s in Singer’s pocket worse than anyone else I’ve ever met. If it weren’t for my boys, she’d have nothing to do with me.”_

_Pete just laughed. “Yeah, that was a tough nut to crack. It wasn’t until she drowned her phone when we were hunting a river god that I found a way around that. It was a couple of days before we could replace it, you know? Then, I just replaced it for her. Put a little gizmo in it, though, so every time she sent a text, it went to me instead of Singer or anyone else. Found a way to block Singer’s number, too. She had no idea.”_

_John’s stomach turned as Pete’s laugh echoed through the trees._

_“Yeah, she was a mighty sweet piece. A bit too much trouble, in the end, which is why I let her go, but from what I hear, Winchester, you kinda like trouble, don’tcha?” Pete elbowed John and John forced out a chuckle._

_“Can’t say I’ve ever walked away from it, no,” John replied._

_They kept walking, John leading Pete further and further into the mountains. After a couple of miles, Pete finally looked at John and questioned where they were headed._

_John gave Pete his first genuine smile of the day. “Well, Pete, I actually lied. See, there was a Wendigo up this way, but that was a while back, and I took care of it all on my own. This isn’t so much of a Wendigo hunt as it is a Pete hunt.” John’s grin widened at the sudden look of uncertainty that took over Pete’s features. “But that’s not quite right, is it, Pete? This ain’t a Pete hunt, ‘cause your name ain’t Pete, is it…,” John’s voice dropped into a raspy timbre, “...Lesley?”_

_Pete stopped following John and turned to back away. “What are you talking about?” He kept his eyes on John, not wanting to run and give the bigger hunter a clear shot, and definitely not wanting to turn his back on him, either._

_John stopped and faced Pete, his head cocking from side to side as his smile turned predatory and vicious. “Lesley. Really? Family name is it? Given to every first-born girl? You know that’s the girl way of spelling it, right?” John chuckled at the confusion, embarrassment, and fear on Pete’s face. “See, no one needed to tell me what you did to Y/N, because I could see it on her face. That was your first mistake, really. If you’d left her alone, I never would have found out that you ever touched her.” John started circling Pete, drawing him into a little clearing that might have been someone’s campsite once upon a time. “I never would have looked you up and discovered that you didn’t exist. I never would have kept looking and discovered **Lesley Cummings** ,” John’s voice grew even colder, the disgust and anger oozing from every word, “wife-beater and **rapist**.” John dropped his bag, shook his head, and tsked at Pete. “But, no. You just had to come over and break her down, one last time, didn’t you?”_

_Pete started shaking his head and backing away, trying to deny everything. He dropped his bag, almost tripped over it, and put up his hands in defense. “I don’t know what you think you know, Winchester, but my name is Pete Thompkins, not Lesley Whatever-You-Said. I don’t know who he is or what’s he’s done, but I’ve got no beef with you, and you’ve got no beef with me.”_

_John kept circling Pete, getting a little enjoyment out of watching him back up and get ready to defend himself. “See, now, that’s where you’re wrong, Pete. It’s true, Lesley Cummings has done nothing to me. According to his rap sheet, though, he’s done plenty to the neighbor’s dog, two high school girlfriends, his ex-wife, and his sister’s nanny. Those were just the women who complained, too.” He shrugged, then stepped closer to Pete and pointed at him, eyebrows raised. “However, you did something to Y/N, and she’s family, so yeah, I have a big beef with you.”_

_Pete giggled, a nervous tremor giving it a high-pitched squealing sound that he cleared his throat to try and eliminate. “No, John! I didn’t do anything to her! I mean, yeah, we dated for a while, but I didn’t do anything she didn’t ask for! Why, did she tell you I did something?”_

_John pulled a small recording device out of his pocket and waved it at Pete. “No. You did.” He slid it back into his pocket and gave Pete another predatory smile. “See, she only said you were a danger to hunt with. It’s what she didn’t say, what she didn’t do to you when you called her a bitch, that told me what you’d done. I waited for her to rip into you, to slice you into ribbons the way I’ve seen her do to men a thousand times before. She chose not to.” John gave half a shrug and another gleaming smile. “She’s a much better person than I am, Pete.”_

_Faster than Pete could anticipate, John stepped forward and slammed his right fist into Pete’s face. Pete’s head flew back from the force, and he stepped back to stay on his feet. Before his head had even fully bounced back, John’s left fist hit the other side of his face, and Pete staggered backwards a couple of steps. John swung with his right foot and hit Pete directly in the gut, bending him over. He then stepped into Pete’s space, grabbed him by the hair, and brought his knee up into Pete’s nose._

_Pete went down on the ground, hands over his face, blood running through his fingers. John stepped back and watched Pete try to get himself together._

_“Get up, asswipe,” John growled, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “From the stories I heard about you, Lesley, I’m guessing we’re nowhere near the amount of pain you put Y/N through, and I’m gonna make you feel every bit of it.” He bent over, still a couple of paces away from Pete, still giving the dick a fighting chance, and roared into the space between them._

_“_ _**I SAID GET THE FUCK UP AND FIGHT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!** ”_

_Pete, or rather, Lesley, scrambled backwards like a crab, but John was faster. John took two steps and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him up onto his feet before slamming him against a nearby tree. John let go of him, then, almost expecting Pete to drop back down onto the ground, but Pete used the tree to keep standing. He leaned hard against it, panting through his mouth since his broken nose was useless. He centered the tree at his back, gripping the bark at his sides._

_John watched him calculate his attack and saw what he was going to do before Pete’s hand even twitched. John pulled his gun from its holster while Pete reached behind him into his waistband. As John got Pete into his sights, Pete’s hand caught on a branch or some bark from the tree, throwing off his maneuver. Instead of pulling his gun from his waistband and aiming at John, he fumbled it._

_As the gun jumped between his hands, it caught on his fingers and went off._

_Pete yelped and jumped with the first shot, somehow causing it to fire again before dropping it to the ground, where it settled at John’s feet._

_John stilled while he watched this comedy of errors, almost laughing in relief when the dust settled, and he was miraculously unhurt. During his juggling act with the firearm, one shot had grazed across Pete’s belly, leaving a bloody gash in his shirt and a hole in the zipper of his jacket before blasting through his hand. The other shot had gone wild into the air, ricocheting off a tree limb above them, which sent a few bits of leaves and bark showering down on Pete’s head. As John’s heart settled from the adrenaline spike the wild shots had caused, he watched the debris settle in Pete’s hair, and time slowed to a crawl. Pete slowly worked his way through the shock of what he’d just done, quiet seconds stretching out around them without even so much as a cricket chirping._

_Then Pete screamed._

_There are a lot of nerves in the human hand, and John was feeling a few of them, himself, just from forcing his knuckles into Pete’s face. The gruesome hole that used to be the joint where Pete’s thumb met the rest of his hand would have shredded several of the really important ones. For a moment, John almost felt sympathy for the man. A flash of Y/N’s terrified face when she’d heard Pete’s voice stopped that cold._

_Pete crumpled to the ground and cradled his injured hand, no longer feeling his broken nose. Blood seeping from his face, his belly, and his hand all pooled together. His cries quickly died out, so John walked over and stood above him, trying to decide where to go from here now that Pete literally shot his plan all to hell._

_John squatted down, watching Pete writhe on the ground with fear in his eyes before passing out from the pain. John patted down Pete’s pockets, removing every weapon except a Swiss army knife. Next, he removed Pete’s phone, and then roughly inspected his wounds. The graze on his belly was just that and had already stopped bleeding. John eyed the gash, wishing he could add to it so it would match the scars on Y/N’s stomach, but resisted. The bleeding from Pete’s nose also seemed to have slowed, if not stopped altogether, so the hand was the only injury needing attention. John fashioned a tourniquet out of a strip of Pete’s shirt and a nearby stick and bound Pete’s wrist with it. He then grabbed a bandana from his back pocket and wrapped it around Pete’s hand, tying it tight enough to wake Pete up with the pain and make him cry out. The blood didn’t soak the cloth all the way through, so John knew the man wouldn’t bleed out from it. In spite of everything, he’d live._

_John stood back and eyed Pete up and down. Pete cradled his hand, inspecting the tourniquet and field bandage with dull eyes. John picked up Pete’s bag and went through it, pulling out some protein bars and a bottle of water. He dropped them next to Pete, then collected the stray firearm. John shook his head at the jimmied safety, unloaded the gun, and cleared the chamber to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally fire again. Dropping it in Pete’s bag, he lifted both bags to his shoulder and stood in front of the injured man._

_“Just like every woman you’ve ever hurt, you’re gonna live. Unfortunately. But I know Y/N, and she wouldn’t want me to kill you. She’d just want you to not be able to hurt anyone else. Be thankful for her, because I don’t think you’re any better than the Wendigo that used to haunt these woods, and I’d just as soon take you out. But I want to be better, for her, so I won’t.”_

_He pulled Pete’s phone out of his pocket, enjoying the flash of fear Pete showed at seeing his chance at rescue lying in John’s hands. “Now, you said you messed with her phone, and that kept her from contacting people she loved, people who loved her, so she couldn’t escape you. I think it’s only fair that I do the same to you.”_

_John dropped the phone to the ground and stomped on it with his heavy work boot until it broke into pieces. He then stooped over, grabbed the battery from the pile of plastic, and hurled it into the woods so far there was a second of silence before he heard it land. With a satisfied smile, he turned back to Pete._

_“Well, Lesley Cummings, this is where we part ways. Even though you’re a generally stupid man, I know you’re smart enough not to talk about how I led you into the woods and forced you to shoot yourself in the hand. I mean, it’d be a shame if the authorities found out what you’ve been doing, recently. Where you’ve been, what kind of truck you drive, the array of weapons you keep… they’d sure love to know that, wouldn’t they, Lesley?”_

_John chuckled as he turned to walk away. “Can’t blame you for changing your name, though.”_

_From behind him, John heard Pete scream at him. “You can’t leave me out here! I’ll bleed out! You took my gun! I’m unprotected!”_

_John just laughed and raised a hand in a wave. “You’re a big boy, Lesley!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I have faith that you’ll find your way back to civilization. Cockroaches always do.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kind of cathartic. Was it for you, too? (If you want something even more cathartic than this, check out Empathiser by @littlegreenplasticsoldier. - http://archiveofourown.org/works/13771686 - I'd make that an active link for you, but I don't know how.)


	67. Timestamp 2 - 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John can’t get a hold of Dean on the cell phone, so he calls you for help. You end up sticking around for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy COW, this took forever to write. I've been working on this on and off since before I moved, six months ago! Not beta read, because I wanted to get this out before I start NaNoWriMo. This covers two requests for timestamps that I had for my 2500 followers celebration on Tumblr: Talking to one of the boys about girls, and jealous John. I still have five other requests for timestamps, but they will go on the back burner for a while.

_Your phone rang, and you picked it up, glad for the distraction from watching whole tons of nothing happening around an abandoned warehouse you thought might have a djinn in residence. John’s number popped up on the little screen and your heart jumped._

_“What’s up, John?” you asked, not even bothering with the usual niceties since John never did._

_“How far are you from Dallas?” John’s voice was gruff and strained, muffled slightly by the roar of the road. John hated using the phone while he drove, so a shiver of fear went down your spine._

_“I’m just west of Shreveport, so 3 hours, maybe, if there’s traffic. What’s wrong, John?”_

_“I’m in fucking Colorado, and something’s wrong with Dean’s phone. I spoke with him four days ago, and everything was fine. Just now, I called and got ‘your number cannot be completed as dialed’ or some shit. I rented a house, this time, so there’s no motel manager to call, and I’m 16 hours away, at best.”_

_“What’s the address?”_

_John rattled off an address which you wrote on a fast food napkin._

_You started your car and peeled out onto the road. “I’ll call you when I get there.” You almost ended the call, fully expecting John to have already hung up, but instead, you heard him sigh. “Talk to me, John. Is there something else?”_

_“No, darlin’.” John’s voice had lost the tension and only the fear remained. “Nothin’ else. Just wishin’ I didn’t have to drag you into my shit all the time.”_

_“You’re not dragging me, I’m coming of my own free will. I love your boys, and I’d do anything for them. You know that.” You pressed your lips together to seal in all the other words you wanted to say. How you’d do anything, not just for his boys, but for him, too. How all he had to do was ask, and you’d drop everything. How you specifically avoided having anything that would need to be dropped just in case he called._

_“I know you do.” Road noise on your end competed with the road noise on his end. “Now, get off the phone before one of us crashes. This shit ain’t safe.”_

_“Yes, sir,” you replied with a short chuckle. “Talk soon.”_

_The call ended with a quiet click and you tossed your phone onto the passenger seat._

_The drive to Dallas was fraught with fear. You pushed away images of your boys injured or worse, reassuring yourself that Dean probably just forgot to charge the damn thing or something. Your boys were fine. They had to be fine._

_When you arrived at the house, the Impala was nowhere to be seen, but the lights inside were on, giving the house a comforting glow that the ramshackle structure desperately needed. It wasn’t as bad as some of the houses you’d squatted in at times, but you wouldn’t see its like in a sitcom on TV. Parking your car down the block, you cased the place, looking for signs that anything was wrong. One peek into the kitchen window showed you Sam, sitting at the table with books and papers spread around him, chewing on his pencil._

_Relief flooded your system, weakening your knees until you were squatting on the ground, just breathing. Dean was obviously out somewhere, but if Sam was calmly doing his homework, Dean was probably just out with a girl. Heart back to its normal pace, you stood back up and headed to the front door, giving it a solid couple of thumps._

_“Sam?” you called through the door, knowing he’d be able to hear you. “It’s Y/N!”_

_The distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked came from the other side of the door._

_“Why are you here?”_

_Pride filled your chest. Sam was smart. He wasn’t taking anything for granted._

_“Your dad tried to call Dean and couldn’t get through. He’s on his way, but I was closer, so I’m just here to check on you.”_

_A small bottle fell through the mail slot onto the porch and the curtain by the window twitched. “Drink it.”_

_Smiling at the wary hazel eye spying on you from the window, you opened the bottle and drank a couple of swallows. You grimaced at the taste of salt, so just poured some more on your hand, showing Sam your unburned skin. Three clicks later, the door was opening, and you had an armful of pre-teen boy. You hoped he never stopped wanting hugs from you, but in case he did, you cherished every single one you got. This one was no exception._

_The two of you stepped inside, Sam carefully twisting all the locks back into place. “What’d you say about Dad trying to call?”_

_“He said he tried to call to check in, and the call wouldn’t go through. He’s worried, so I’m here. Where’s Dean?”_

_Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what her name is this week, but he’s out with a girl.”_

_Heaving a sigh, you took in the sadness in Sam’s shoulders. All he wanted was his big brother to keep him company, and all his brother wanted was a piece of tail._

_“On a school night? Fu—dge,” you quickly corrected. “Your father’s gonna have a conniption. Any clue where he might take her?”_

_“There’s a diner that serves great pie, and a make-out spot the older boys all take their dates to. If he’s not at one, he’s at the other.”_

_You ruffled Sam’s hair. “Get your coat. Let’s hope he’s at the diner.”_

_Dean and his date were sitting in a booth by the front window, so you saw them as soon as you pulled in. You turned off your car and pulled out your phone to call John._

_“Y/N?” John’s voice was even more strained, fear giving it a crack you weren’t used to hearing._

_“They’re fine, John. I’ve got eyes on both of them.”_

_“Oh, thank fuck,” John groaned. He pulled a deep breath into his lungs and let it out slowly. In the background, you heard his turn signal, and the road noise decreased until it was gone. “If they’re both fine, then what’s up with the phone?”_

_“I don’t know, yet, but I wanted to let you know everything’s okay, so you could relax, or even start heading back to your hunt, if you need to.” Sam’s eyes were on you, his expression unreadable._

_“Find out what’s going on and call me back right away,” John ordered._

_“Yes, sir,” you replied, hearing the click of John ending the call between your words. You looked at your phone for a second, sighing and shaking your head at it before putting it away. With a smile, you looked at Sam. “Ready to ruin your brother’s date?”_

_Sam giggled. “Yeah!”_

_The two of you headed into the diner, catching Dean’s eye the moment the bell over the door rang. Dean’s eyes were wide as saucers when he saw you and Sam, and he scrambled out of the booth in a panic._

_“What’s wrong?” He looked from you to Sam, his eyes searching both of your bodies for wounds or any indication of why you were there. When he didn’t find anything, he stiffened, bracing for the worst._

_You put a hand on his arm to calm him. “Everyone’s fine. Your dad tried to call and couldn’t get through. I was nearby, so now I’m here.”_

_Dean exhaled loudly, almost crumpling in half in his relief. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a scared smile, then seemed to remember where he was. His uber-cool demeanor returned with a clearing of his throat, just in time for his girlfriend to stand up and approach the three of you._

_“Dean?” she said, coming up to stand next to him, facing you and Sam. “Everything okay?”_

_Dean flashed his most charming smile at her. “Sure, sweetheart. Just a misunderstanding I have to clear up. I’ll be back in a minute, okay, doll?” He looked at you, silently asking you to let him return to his date, even though he knew he was breaking rules._

_“Okay, Dean,” the girl replied with a giggle and an overly-sweet smile. You resisted rolling your eyes, but Sam didn’t._

_As soon as the girl was seated again, Dean led you and Sam out of the diner and back to your car. “Okay, what’s going on, now?”_

_You held out your hand. “Give me the phone.”_

_Dean passed it over and you opened it up, finding nothing wrong with it. You tried to make a call, though, and nothing happened. No dial tone. The status bar said there should be service, but you still couldn’t make a call. Whatever the problem was, it wasn’t the phone._

_Frowning at the phone, you sighed. “Maybe it’s a billing problem?” With a shrug, you handed the phone back to Dean. “Tell your date something came up at home and you have to end your date early. Take her home, then come straight back to the house. Do that, and I won’t tell your dad where you were.” You cocked a finger at him and gave him your best bad-cop face. “If you’re not back at the house in 30 minutes, I talk.”_

_Dean’s shoulders slumped, but he knew he was getting a better deal than he deserved. Still, he was a teenager. “Fine,” he spat out, managing to pack all the melodramatic irritation of an entire after-school special into that one little word. He turned around and headed back into the diner, stomping a little petulantly until he reached the door. Once inside, you saw the smooth charmer was back, the teenage temper tantrum dissipating into thin air._

_You and Sam got back in the car, and you called John back. While you told him about the phone, you watched Dean dutifully ask for the check. John said he’d look into the billing question, and then tried to tell you to return to your hunt, but you wouldn’t hear of it._

_“I already got someone else covering it, and I haven’t seen your boys in way too long. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stick around a while.”_

_“Y/N, I can’t keep taking you away from your life like that. They’re not your responsibility.”_

_Your treacherous brain decided to translate for you. ‘You’re not their mother, you’re just the babysitter.’ You closed your eyes and took a cleansing breath. “You’re not taking me from anything. Besides, I could use a break. I’ve been on the road too long without a rest, anyway.”_

_“Fine. But if something comes up, don’t feel like you have to stay. My hunt won’t take too much longer, and then I’ll be back. I only agreed to let them stay there because Sam begged not to have to change schools again and Dean’s teachers are already talking about him flunking out because of all the moves.”_

_You guessed John was trying to convince himself more than you. This could be an opening, though. Maybe you could convince John to let you stay with the boys and give them stability?_

_“Like I said, I could use some downtime. Anyway, it’s almost Sam’s bedtime, so I’m gonna go.”_

_“Y/N,” John started, then paused. “Thank you.”_

_“Any time, John,” you replied, listening for the click that ended the call before hanging up._

_You looked over at Sam as you started up your car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back to the house. “So, how’s my favorite Sam?”_

_The boy shrugged, looking out the window as he frowned. “Fine.”_

_Recognizing a sullen teenager who was definitely not ‘fine’, you suppressed a smile. “That is the least fine I’ve ever heard from someone who said that they were fine.” A pat on his arm got him to at least look at you. “Spill. What’s wrong?”_

_A sigh so reminiscent of his brother left Sam’s small frame. “It’s nothing.” The stubborn set of his jaw looked just like his father’s, and you knew you weren’t going to get anywhere with him just then._

_“Alright, then. But I’m around if you want to get something off your chest.”_

_Sam just nodded and continued staring out the window. He was quiet the rest of the ride back to the house, and all while he finished his homework until he went to bed. When Dean got home, he kept you talking by asking you about your recent hunts and how Bobby was doing. Sam just gave you his usual hug goodnight before trudging upstairs._

_When you were sure Sam was out of listening range, you turned to Dean. “What’s up Sam’s butt?”_

_Dean turned away from the sandwich he was making for himself to glance at you with a typical teenage shrug and blank look. “I dunno.” He turned back to his sandwich with a smile, patting it firmly before lifting to his mouth and taking a humongous bite while he turned back to you, leaning against the counter. Mouth so full bits of his sandwich were falling out, he mumbled through his food, “Thin iss a grrr.”_

_Wincing in disgust at his display, you shook your head. “I know I taught you better than to talk with your mouth full, especially when it’s that full. Chew, swallow, and THEN tell me what’s going on.”_

_Dean took a comically long time to clear his mouth, so long he almost forgot he was supposed to be talking and nearly took another bite._

_“Bup!” you snapped, getting his attention away from his dinner. “Talk, mister!”_

_Dean gave his sandwich a sad glance before saying, “I think it’s a girl. He was asking me about how to talk to girls.”_

_You sat back with a sigh, suddenly feeling ancient, despite only being in your late twenties. Well, very late twenties. Fine, you were gonna be thirty next year. Ugh._

_“Baby Sammy is old enough to like girls?” You looked at Dean, noticing how he’d aged since you last saw him, too. “I’m not ready for you two to be grownups, so would you do me a favor and stop this growing shit, please?” you joked with a smile._

_Dean just grinned around another gargantuan mouthful of food making you grimace, but with a laugh. He just shrugged and continued eating._

_Deciding that a sandwich wasn’t a bad idea, you got up to make one for yourself before putting away everything Dean had gotten out. (You honestly wondered who put things away when you weren’t around.) Noticing the abundance of food in the frig, you gave the cupboards a quick peek and saw that they were full, too._

_“How long’s your dad been gone this time?”_

_“About a month,” Dean answered around the final bite of his food._

_“I fully expected to come in here and make a shopping list, but you’re pretty well stocked. Not to mention you were taking a girl out on a date. How’d you do that?” You knew Dean had relied on grifting in the past and you didn’t like it._

_Dean shrugged. “Got a job.”_

_You could have been knocked over with a feather. “A job??”_

_Heat flooded Dean’s face. “Hey, I’m 17, now! I’m old enough to get a job to pay for the beer I buy with my fake ID!” He played it off with a bright smile, but you could tell he was nervous about your opinion._

_You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Quit telling me about the illegal shit you do, Dean, or I have to tell your father,” you joked, giving him a smile. “But tell me about this job?”_

_Another shrug. “It’s only been about a week. The Impala needed some work, so I went to the local shop to see if I could do some work in exchange for parts, and the guy offered me a job. I got paid today, so I stocked up on shit.”_

_Tallying up the cost of the groceries in the frig and pantry, you squinted at Dean. “So, after school and on weekends? Must pay pretty well.”_

_Dean hadn’t looked you in the eye in a while, and he actively avoided it, now. “It pays okay.” He stood up to put his plate in the sink. “Anyway, it’s time for me to head to bed, too—”_

_A hand on his arm stopped him. “Oh, no, young man. Sit back down.”_

_His entire body sagged as he realized you were onto him. He flopped back down in the chair, still avoiding your eyes._

_“Tell me the truth, Dean. I know I’m an adult, and therefore the enemy, but I’m here to help.” You covered his hand with yours. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”_

_He slouched even further in his chair but left his hand in yours. “Once the guy saw how much I knew about working on cars, he offered me full-time hours. He only ever had two guys besides him, and he lost them both, so he’s swamped. He teaches me what I don’t know about the newer cars and pays me under the table.” Dean finally looked up at you. “I know Dad wouldn’t like it, but I’m helping this guy while I’m learning stuff AND making money! I suck at doing the school thing, but this, Bigs? I’m GOOD at this. And I’m taking care of Sammy!”_

_Your heart broke. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the boy in front of you, trying so hard to be a man before he should have ever had to. A heavy sigh left you and you wiped away the tears before they could fall._

_“You need school, Dean, and you should be worried about prom, not groceries, but I see where you’re coming from. Go to bed. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”_

_Dean gave you a side hug and a kiss on your cheek before heading towards the stairs, and you watched him go, wondering what you were going to do. If you told John, he’d blow a gasket and leave his hunt just to come beat sense into Dean. Then, once he realized what Dean was doing, he’d feel guilty as hell and beat himself senseless, if a bottle of whiskey didn’t get him there, first. No, you needed to find an answer and fix it. Once it was done, then you could tell John._

_***_

_The next day, you took Dean and Sam to school, gave the attendance folks a story to excuse Dean from the week of school he’d missed, and then sat down with the guidance counselor. When you walked out, you had a GED study guide in your hands and a list of dates and times when Dean could take it. Your next stop was the garage where he’d been working. As you approached, you saw one man on the phone at a desk off to the side of the room, and two cars already up on lifts._

_“I’m sorry, Mrs. Silberman, but I’m down two guys, and the kid I took on to help didn’t show up this morning. I just can’t get it done today. I promise I’ll do it first thing tomorrow, though, I swear.” He rubbed his hand over his forehead, leaving a trail of black grease behind. “Thank you, ma’am. I truly am sorry. Bye bye.”_

_He put the phone down with a sigh before seeing you standing in the doorway. The tired squint to his eyes widened to actual despair._

_“If you need something more than just an oil change, you’ll have to find somewhere else, and I’m even booked solid for the next month on those.” He shook his head and his shoulder dropped in defeat._

_You approached the desk and tried to put on your best encouraging smile. “Actually, I’m here about Dean.”_

_His lips pursed, and his brow furrowed. “Something wrong with him?”_

_You smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “Only that he’s a little young to be working full-time at the moment.” Putting your hand towards him, you introduced yourself and continued, “I’m here to negotiate with you so he can stay in school a while longer, but not completely leave you hanging.”_

_He stood up from his chair and came around the desk to greet you, taking your hand and giving it a warm, firm shake. “I’m Nathan. You must be the Bigs I keep hearing so much about.” He followed up with a smile that made your stomach do a little flip as you looked up into his bright, blue eyes._

_Your cheeks heated before you could control your reaction, so you tried to hide it by pulling your hand from his grasp, looking away, and clearing your throat. “Yeah. Well, umm, like I was saying, Dean needs to stay in school a bit longer, but he told me what’s going on here.” Waving a hand around the shop, you took in the piles of paperwork on the desk, and the phone that was now ringing again. When Nathan didn’t rush to answer it, you steadied yourself with a breath and continued. “There’s no problem with him working evenings and weekends, as long as he keeps up with his schoolwork, but he can’t do full-time.”_

_Nathan’s shoulders dropped even further._

_“However, I can help some, I think. I mean, I’m not a mechanic, but I change my own oil and do most of my own basic maintenance, so I might be able to help with the easy stuff with your supervision. Besides that, I can answer phones and do paperwork or whatever you need. Just show me what needs to be done and how you want it done and I’ll do it.”_

_The smile Nathan gave you nearly knocked you off your feet. “You’re hired!”_

_***_

_The morning was a productive one, with you doing most of the work for two oil changes, plus answering the phone. When the two of you broke for lunch, you sat together behind the small desk covered in papers, munching while Nathan gave you a rundown on how everything worked. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, enjoying his warmth as it seeped into you. It may have been Texas, but it was still February, and the garage was chillier than you’d expected. As he guided you through preparing invoices, he propped his left arm on the back of your chair while reaching past you with his right to grab a pen or a piece of paper. You’d gotten completely distracted by a grease smudge behind his ear when your phone rang._

_The sound startled you so badly you almost missed the call because you were busy apologizing for accidentally elbowing Nathan in the ribs. Then, you nearly dropped the phone pulling it out of your pocket because you were so flustered about how stupid and childish you were being, drooling over this stranger you’d just met. Seeing John’s number on the little screen only made things worse, and you nearly destroyed the chair trying to get out from behind the desk, so you could answer the phone in private._

_“I called the phone company and fixed the problem. The phone should work, now,” John said, the sound of papers rustling in the background. “If it doesn’t, let me know and I’ll call and bitch at them, again.”_

_“Yes, sir,” you said as you rushed to get just beyond the farthest bay from the office. “I’ll check it when we all get home tonight and let you know if there’s a problem.”_

_“Thanks, Y/N,” John replied with a sigh. “And again, I’m sorry to drag you into my shit, yet again. You’ve got your own life to live, and I hate that I keep taking you away from it.”_

_Your eyes closed as you heaved a sigh. “John, stop.”_

_“I know, I know, you love my boys. Doesn’t mean you should give up your life for ‘em.” His tone was slightly distracted, as it usually was. John could multi-task like no one else you’d ever seen, doing research for cases while talking on the phone and cooking dinner all at the same time. Raising two rambunctious boys made him an expert at doing it all._

_Silence stretched between you as all of your unspoken words choked you._

_“Anyway, Dean always tells me everything’s fine whether it is or not, but he sounded weird the last time I talked to him, so tell me the truth. What trouble has he gotten into out there?”_

_Normally, at this point in the conversation, you’d laugh and tell him about something cute he’d done or the girl of the week, but this time, you were struck dumb. All your practiced speeches went flying out the window in the face of John’s impending wrath._

_John interrupted your thoughts. “You still there?”_

_“Yeah, John. Just, before I tell you what’s going on, know that I fixed it. Well, I’m kind of still fixing it, but either way, it’s over and you don’t need to worry.”_

_All background sounds ceased, and the line sounded almost dead, save the sound of John’s breathing. When he spoke, his voice was low and menacing. “What did he do?”_

_A calming breath settled your stomach. “He needed a part for the Impala, so took a job with a local mechanic to pay for it. The guy really needed help, so Dean kind of skipped school for a week to help him out.” You weren’t going to mention just then about Dean’s plan to actually quit and never go back. You weren’t suicidal._

_The yell John let out nearly damaged your eardrum before you could pull the phone away from your ear._

_“HE DID WHAT????”_

_“Remember I said it’s fixed? He’s back in school today, and he’s basically going to be grounded for the foreseeable future. No cars until his homework’s done at night, and no dates until he’s caught up with his schoolwork and the garage is caught up on all the backlogged appointments. I’ve got it covered.”_

_Dead air hung heavily on the line._

_“You still there, John?”_

_A deep sigh echoed through the phone. “Yeah, I’m here.” Something thudded in the background, and you hoped it wasn’t John’s fist as it went into a wall. “Tell me everything.”_

_You gave John all the details, including your plan to have the boys come straight to the garage after school, so you could continue to help Nathan while keeping an eye on them. Dean would do his homework, then work on cars. Nathan agreed to stay later in the evenings and keep teaching Dean about the newer cars. John was still quiet when you were done._

_“This is okay with you, right?”_

_Another sigh. “I’m gonna kick his ass into next week, I swear to God,” he mumbled. “So, you’re doing some of the work Dean said he’d do?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“This is too much, Y/N. You are not responsible for the mess my kid made!”_

_“John, it’s okay! This way, I get a lot of time with the boys, I get to work a legitimate job for a while, and sleep in a bed that doesn’t make my skin crawl. Not to mention eating some real food instead of just fast food and greasy diner crap. I swear, if I eat another McNugget I’m gonna turn into one! I’m more than happy to do this, you know? I’m fucking ecstatic!”_

_John exhaled loudly. “Fine. But the minute you get tired of playing house, you leave. Don’t hang around a minute longer than you want to, got it?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_You went on to tell John what you’d learned from the guidance counselor about Dean being close to flunking out because of all the recent moves, still keeping the GED talk for another time. John groaned with you when you told him about Sam being cranky and Dean’s theory why. All in all, the rest of the conversation was pleasant but quick, and soon you were back behind the desk, swallowing the last of your sandwich while Nathan guided you through the parts catalog._

_It wasn’t until a comfortable quiet had fallen between you when he was helping you loosen a stubborn air filter in a Cavalier that he surprised you with questions._

_“So, Dean’s dad sounds about as fun as a root canal,” he quipped._

_Your neck cracked loudly with the force of the turn of your head. “What?”_

_Nathan chuckled and smiled a little nervous smile. “Dean’s mentioned his dad’s kinda tough on him, and then I heard him yell through your phone across two bays.”_

_Bristling at the comment, you took a breath and calmly replied, “He’s trying to raise two boys by himself and just found out his kid skipped school for a week. He’s entitled to yell.”_

_Nathan shrugged in the kind of agreeing way that gave you the distinct impression he didn’t actually agree. The stubborn filter finally broke free, and he tossed it on the nearby bench. “Maybe if he were around more,” he mumbled._

_This time, you couldn’t just take a breath and let it go. “He’s trying to juggle a job that involves a lot of travel, and Dean is old enough to be on his own every once in a while.” Zipping your lip before you said something you regretted, you grabbed the new filter and started trying to install it. When the filter nearly broke instead of slipping into place, a hand landed gently on your shoulder while another hand took the filter away from you._

_Nathan pushed the filter into place and then turned to you with an apologetic expression. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s not my business how Papa Winchester chooses to raise his kids. My dad traveled for work all the time when I was growing up and I hated it, but at least I had my mom. Seeing Dean trying to be an adult at his age just kills me.”_

_Nodding your forgiveness, you went back to work while Nathan returned to his own job. Things were quiet outside of the staticky music from the radio and the sound of tools banging as you both worked. Just when your thoughts were beginning to wander, Nathan spoke again._

_“So, exactly what is it you and Papa Winchester do that involves so much travel and junk food that working a ‘legitimate’ job like this sounds like a vacation?”_

_You froze. He wasn’t looking at you, or even away from his work, pretending like his question was just small talk. Forcing yourself to move, you gave him the standard answer._

_“Pest control.”_

_Garth Brooks sang about a river flowing for a full verse and a chorus before Nathan replied._

_“I’ve never known exterminators to travel like that.” He grunted as he reached under the hood and worked at loosening something. “My cousin’s an exterminator and still makes it home for dinner every night.”_

_You tightened the last screw, finished the job in front of you, and tossed your screwdriver onto the workbench next to the old filter. “The kind of pests we control only have two legs.” Well, usually. You pressed the button to bring the car down, hoping the noise of the lift would end the conversation. Your hope was in vain._

_As you swung your leg into the driver’s seat to drive the car out of the bay, Nathan appeared beside you and kept you from closing the door._

_“Y’all aren’t mafia or some other kind of hit men, er… women, er… people, are you? I don’t want trouble.”_

_Nathan loomed above you, his worried face only made adorable by the embarrassed blush that graced his cheeks. The debate on how much to say raged inside of you. Obviously, the truth was not an option. Your usual lie hadn’t flown, so you’d have to get creative._

_“Nothing like that. We’re more like private investigators or bounty hunters. Usually, trouble doesn’t find us, we find it.” Pulling the door from his grasp, you slammed it shut and started the car, ending the conversation as you backed out of the garage._

_***_

_The phone kept you busy after that, so Nathan didn’t have a chance to try and press you before the boys showed up after school. Dean grunted and groaned when you told him no cars before his homework was done, mostly because he had so much of it to catch up on. You were glad when Nathan backed you up, agreeing that schoolwork came first. You had both boys sit in the office with you while you worked on paperwork and Nathan zipped through job after job. When the shop’s official closing time came around, you ordered in pizza, and everyone took a break to eat, chatting about their day. After dinner, you looked over Dean’s work with him, making sure everything was finished except some work that wasn’t due for a couple of days, and then Nathan took Dean into one of the bays and they got lost in their own little world. When Sammy was yawning, you dragged Dean away, so you could all go home. Back at the house, you all took turns cleaning up and then headed to bed, completely exhausted._

_The rest of the week continued like that, and you all settled into the routine. It was nice, getting to spend so much time with your boys, and it felt good to be helping Nathan. Watching him teach Dean about the intricacies of foreign cars was honestly incredibly distracting. By the end of the week, you were doing your best not to notice how broad his shoulders were or how well his jeans fit. On Friday, Nathan declared that you should all go home early, well… on time, and shooed you out of the shop right at 6 o’clock. You teased him about having a hot date, but he just shook his head and pushed you out the door._

_Since Dean was grounded, you made him go shopping with you and help you cook dinner. After dinner, Sam offered to help with the dishes, so Dean could watch something on TV, and you decided to take the chance to talk to him._

_All week, he’d been sullen and moody, still being polite, but definitely quieter than you were used to. As he handed you a clean dish to dry and put away, you elbowed him gently to get his attention._

_“Hey, kiddo. You ever gonna talk to me about what’s up yer butt?”_

_He sighed so deeply the curtains over the sink twitched in the breeze. “We’re probably leaving here soon, anyway, so it’s not gonna matter,” he said, keeping his eyes on the dish he was drying._

_That meant it was either school or friends. “Why don’t you tell me, anyway, and maybe together we can find a way to make it better?”_

_Another deep sigh. The kid would hyperventilate if he kept it up._

_“I asked Dean for advice, and it didn’t work out, and now everything’s weird, so it’ll be good when we go.” Sam’s lips seemed to almost disappear in his discontent._

_“Wow.” You put away the dish in your hand and felt his forehead. “Nope, not feverish.” Darting to your jacket hanging by the door, you grabbed your flask and handed it to him. “Drink that, please,” you said, pressing your lips together to contain your smile._

_Sam gave you a truly spectacular bitch face and splashed a bit of the water in the sink. “I’m not possessed. Sheesh!!”_

_You tucked the flask back into your jacket. “Really? Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard Sam Winchester look forward to changing schools. I’m pretty sure this is a sign of the Apocalypse. Rivers turn to blood, frogs fall from the sky, Sam Winchester hates school, and then, yup, right after that comes a rider on a pale horse.”_

_Sam giggled in spite of himself but tried to cover it by rolling his eyes and letting out another sigh. “I’m not possessed and it’s not the end of the world as we know it. It’s just, this school sucks and I’m ready for a new one. That’s all,” he said while handing you another clean dish._

_You took the dish from him and wiped it. “This school sucks, huh? Teachers suck? Or is it the kids that suck?”_

_“Teachers are fine,” Sam huffed, scrubbing at the frying pan like it had personally insulted him._

_Watching him scrape bits of burned cheeseburger off the pan, you tried to just push him gently, not nag. “Someone picking on you?”_

_He finished the pan and pulled the plug in the drain, rinsing the sink out. “Everyone knows I’m Dean’s little brother. We have lunch at the same time, so everyone sees him come by and check on me. They wouldn’t dare.”_

_Sam tried to leave the kitchen, but you threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back, sitting him back down at the table. He squirmed out of your hold once you were sitting but didn’t get up and leave. Slumped into the chair across from you, he crossed his arms and let out yet another dramatic sigh._

_Mimicking his body language, you stared him down until he finally cracked._

_“Alright, alright! It’s a girl!” he exclaimed, waving a hand at you. “Stop staring at me like that, it’s creepy!”_

_“A girl?” You did your best to sound surprised, not wanting Sam to know Dean had already spilled the beans._

_Now that he’d pulled the cork out of the bottle, everything came pouring out. “Yeah, a girl. There’s this girl in my English class, and she’s pretty and she’s smart, and she’s funny. So, I asked Dean about how to talk to her, you know? How to tell her I like her and stuff, and now, she won’t even talk to me!” Sam threw his hands up in the air and dropped them back into his lap with a loud thud._

_“So, Dean told you how to talk to her, huh?”_

_Sam nodded, staring at his lap with a deep pout._

_“Exactly what did he tell you to do?”_

_Sam shrugged. “You know, call her a cute name or something. Don’t let her know how much you like her or you’ll seem desperate. Don’t talk about my nerdy stuff like books. He even taught me his finger guns move, and I did everything the way he said, and she just walked away!”_

_Your eyebrows nearly hit your hairline while you tried not to laugh. “Um, finger guns?”_

_Sam rolled his eyes so hard his head wobbled, then put on a smirk while he pointed at you and winked. It was pretty much the most ridiculous thing you’d ever seen, especially on a pre-teen._

_Covering your mouth with your hand, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, so you wouldn’t say or do something to upset Sam further. “That’s what Dean told you to do?”_

_Sam slumped back into his chair and pushed his lips out into the cutest pout you’d ever seen. “Yeah. And she hated it, and now she won’t talk to me, anymore.” Sam straightened up, defiance and anger filling him. “So, yeah, I’m ready for Dad to come get us and take us somewhere far away from here!”_

_Holding up your hands to calm him, you tried to talk him down. “Okay, okay, I think I see the problem.”_

_Sam slumped back into his chair, refusing to meet your eyes. “Yeah, I’m a dweeb and a loser. That’s the problem.”_

_“Hey hey hey!! No way, dude! You’re one of the coolest guys I know, and I know a lot of cool dudes! The problem is, you tried to be like Dean to impress her, when I’m betting she likes you.”_

_Sam’s eyes crept up until he was looking at you, albeit suspiciously. “But Dean always gets the girl! Doing what he does should work!”_

_“Yeah,” you scoffed. “If you want a girl like the ones he dates!”_

_Sam’s face lightened for the first time all night. “You mean like Candi? With-an-i?” he said, with a sarcastic tone that was well beyond his years. “No, thanks.”_

_You slid into the chair next to him and gave him a pat on his knee. “See? There’s your problem. You’re not Dean, and your girl isn’t Candi-with-an-i. What works for Dean isn’t gonna work for you, and if it did, the girl you’d get wouldn’t be the type of girl you’d like.”_

_That thought seemed to cheer Sam up for almost a whole minute. His shoulders slumped again, though, and he grumbled. “Then I’m back at square one. No clue what to do.” Yet another angst-filled sigh._

_“Wait. You’re not giving up, are you? I mean, you’ve still got me, right?”_

_Sam rolled his eyes. “What do YOU know about flirting with girls??”_

_“Well, I kind of AM one, in case you haven’t noticed?” You waved a hand around yourself, pointing at your face and your body. “I mean, last time I checked,” you joked, looking down your shirt and declaring, “Yup! They’re still there! I’m still a girl!”_

_Sam giggled. “Ew!! You’re not a girl! You’re like a mom or something!”_

_Tears filled your eyes as you stopped for a second, emotion rocking you. You giggled through it, going along with the joke, pretending to gag and be gross. “Oh, I KNOW!! I’m just so OLD and DECREPIT, I’m practically DEAD!” Putting your hands out like a zombie, you reached for Sam, tickling his sides while you cried out about needing to eat his brain. The two of you collapsed into giggles, finally letting each other go when you were completely breathless._

_The two of you settled next to each other, leaning on the table with your heads resting on your hands. When your breathing was once again even, you looked at Sam._

_“Alright, here’s what you do. First, apologize for acting like an idiot.”_

_***_

_One hunt turned into two hunts, which turned into three weeks that John was away without any hope of even stopping by to see his kids. He called regularly, though, and you kept him updated on how everything was going. Dean was caught up with his schoolwork, Nathan was caught up at the garage, and all of you were settling into a nice, easy routine. Sam had even managed to fix things with the girl of his dreams, which made you both happy and nervous. Your days were spent covered in grease and buried in paperwork, but somehow, spending the time with Nathan made it feel less like work. When the boys got there after school, you helped them with their homework, and then Nathan taught Dean about cars while you taught Sam all about bookkeeping and running a business. In the evenings, you all had dinner together, sometimes heading to the diner, sometimes just heating up leftovers in the microwave and all of you eating around the desk. It was almost normal, except for the salt in the windows._

_As the weeks wore on, Nathan made his interest in you more and more obvious. At first, it was just light touches and gentle looks, but it slowly grew into him trying to be in your space whenever you were alone. Your first kiss was in the storeroom after Nathan nervously asked for permission. After that, it was amazing you got any work done at all when the boys weren’t around. Nathan insisted you go slowly, though, and took you out on proper dates every Saturday night._

_There was one hiccup when a local house was torn down to make way for a new shopping center, and suddenly construction workers were getting injured left and right. Nathan knew enough about the house to spark a successful records search and the next night you told him you were tired and just wanted to go to bed early. ‘Women problems’ and such. Nathan offered to take the boys to a movie and feed them dinner, so you could rest. You agreed, hoping he would buy your lies, so you didn’t have to drag him into your life._

_He didn’t buy a thing when you showed up the next morning limping with a shiner. The ghost had slammed you into his own headstone twice before you got the match lit, and you probably had a cracked rib in addition to the cuts and bruises. When he wouldn’t let it go, you finally had to tell him something._

_“Y/N, I care about you! You were going to have a quiet evening at home with a tub of mint chip and a rom-com from Blockbuster, but you showed up here looking like you went three rounds with Ali swearing nothing happened! I’m not buying it!”_

_You sighed, staring at him helplessly. He hadn’t believed you’d fallen down the stairs, mostly because of the fingerprints around your neck._

_“Fine,” you said, rubbing your aching head. “I did a job. It was local, it was small, and it’s done. In spite of how I look, I’m fine,” you pleaded, hoping to convince him to drop it. “This is nothing. I’ll be back to 100% in a week, maybe two, tops!”_

_Nathan paled. “A job?” he asked, sitting down on the workbench next to you._

_“Yeah, a job. There was a pest. I controlled it. Job done.”_

_He pinched the bridge of his nose, then just stared at you. “Am I not paying you enough? I mean, I’m paying you both on the books, now, but I could pay you more under the table if you need the cash!”_

_Shaking your head, you waved him off. “You pay us plenty, Nathan—”_

_“Then why?” he interrupted. “Why would you do a job that is obviously dangerous if it’s not the money?” He grabbed your hands in both of his and looking up at you with pleading eyes. “What job is worth you getting hurt like this?”_

_You took one of your hands from his and cradled his head, running your fingers through his dark hair while you looked into his eyes. How could you possibly explain so he’d understand without telling him everything? “When something is hurting people, it’s worth it.”_

_Nathan was stopped from asking more questions by the sound of a truck door slamming shut. You both looked out the open bay doors, but only you recognized the black GMC Sierra Grande and the tall, dark man getting out of it. Startled by the unexpected visit, you pulled away from Nathan, standing up to greet John, almost at attention. His sharp eyes rested on the bruises on your face and neck and the way you leaned slightly, hugging your sore ribs. His face darkened as his eyes slid to Nathan, and then back to your injuries._

_“John!” you called to him, walking towards him as he approached. “I wasn’t expecting you until next week!”_

_He stopped in front of you, still inspecting your injuries, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Yeah, the, uh, case wrapped up quicker than I thought.” He looked at Nathan, watching him stand up from the bench and approach, but dragged his eyes back to you as he tilted your chin with one finger to get a better look at your eye. “What happened here?”_

_You’d never heard John’s voice get so cold before, and it made you nervous. “I, uh, you know, found a case of my own nearby. Finished it last night. No big deal,” you said, trying to keep calm as John finally dropped his hand. You lowered your voice and mumbled, “Nothing a, uh, seasoned pro like myself couldn’t, you know, burn through in a night.”_

_John nodded his understanding and relaxed just a smidge before turning to face Nathan. Suddenly not wanting the two men anywhere near each other, you jumped to stay between them._

_“John, this is Nathan, who I told you about. He’s been generous enough to teach Dean about the more modern cars and their tech while we’ve been helping while he’s short-staffed.”_

_John reached out a hand, and the two men shook, almost staring each other down. The handshake lasted a few seconds too long before it broke apart. Neither man smiled as they gave each other the usual macho nod and grunt. John then practically dismissed Nathan as he turned back to you._

_“When you and the boys get home tonight, I want them to pack up and get ready to head out in the morning. They’re going to stay with Bobby for the rest of the school year, and after I drop them off, I’m heading to Nevada for a, ah,” John paused, glancing at Nathan, “job.”_

_“No!” you cried, your own distress catching you by surprise and keeping you from controlling your reaction better. “They’re finally on track, here, John! Dean’s grades are up, Sam’s got a little girlfriend, kinda, and they’ve both considered taking up a sport or joining the band or something!” You plowed on through John’s glowering huff. “I told them I would stick around until the end of the school year, so they could keep up the good work!”_

_John’s disapproval became a palpable thing that stopped you from saying anything more. It emanated from him in waves as he glared at you._

_His eyes glanced off Nathan so quickly you almost didn’t see it. “This isn’t a discussion, and even if it were, we wouldn’t be having it here. I’ll see you at the house tonight when you and Dean are done with work.”_

_Before you could respond, he was back in his truck and driving away, leaving you standing in the entrance to the bay, feeling like a two-day-old party balloon… defeated and deflated._

_Nathan’s arm wrapping around your shoulders startled you out of your reverie, and you almost shook it off. Nathan touching you when John was nearby felt wrong. Like you were cheating, somehow._

_“Wow. He’s definitely something, alright,” Nathan said quietly._

_“Yeah, he is,” you agreed, one hand coming up to cover your face while you tried to corral your thoughts. When they wouldn’t jump into order immediately, you walked away from Nathan into the office and sat down at the desk to think. Nathan let you go, returning to his own work while you mindlessly sorted through paperwork, trying to come up with an argument that would make John let you keep your boys in Texas, with you._

_Dean and Sam were not happy when you told them their dad was in town and planning on leaving with them the next day. Dean stormed off, going behind the garage to where Nathan had a couple of old junkers collecting rust, and you heard him beating on one of them. When he came back, he was calm, but his eyes were red-rimmed, throwing the green into sharp relief. He stood up tall, apologized to Nathan for leaving him in a lurch, and thanked him for the work and everything he’d learned. Dean’s schoolbooks were ignored as he rushed to do as much work for Nathan as he could before closing time._

_Sam slumped in his chair, his eyes in his textbook, even though doing homework was pointless. At one point, he stared at you long enough to make you shift in your seat, his eyes glassy. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it with a sigh and a shake of his head. He was losing so much this time, and your heart broke for him._

_John would not be moved, though, no matter what arguments you threw at him. You told him about the GED test, and how Dean had been studying for it alongside his regular studies. You told him how Dean had agreed to try and finish school if he could just do it in one place but moving him would almost guarantee he’d quit and settle for taking the test instead of graduating. You told him about Sam wanting to take a girl to the dance before Spring Break and being on track for Honor Roll and perfect attendance for the quarter. You told him about promising to help Nathan until he found suitable replacements, and John finally shut you down._

_“Then you stay and help Nathan, but I’m taking my boys to Bobby! They are not your responsibility! The house is paid up for another month, so stay and work for Nathan, or leave and do whatever you want to do! We’ll be out of your hair, so you can go and live your life.”_

_Tears threatened to fall, and your throat closed. All you wanted to do was take care of him and his kids! Was that really so wrong? Without a word, you turned and climbed up the stairs to help the boys pack their things. Sam cried, clinging to you like a koala, but only asking that you try and get a message to his girlfriend. Dean remained stoic, packing quietly because he knew better than to make a fuss and possibly anger his father._

_After the truck and the Impala pulled out of the driveway the next morning, you collapsed in the living room, finally letting your tears flow. You already missed your boys. Nathan quickly found two new guys to pick up the slack, and you decided it was time for you to move on, too. He offered to keep you on, even tried bribing you with kisses, but it just didn’t feel right, anymore. In the end, you walked away from all of it, one of the new guys taking over the lease of the house and everything in it. Two days later, you were knee-deep in muck in Mississippi looking for a swamp monster and missing your boys, like usual._

_***_

_John listened to her voice as she talked about ‘Nathan’, this guy who was teaching Dean about car electronics and had hired her to do minor repairs and paperwork. There was a warmth coming from her that carried through the phone and left him cold. The more she talked, the more John knew this Nathan was a nice guy. So, why did he want to break his neck with his bare hands?_

_Oh yeah, because maybe John loved her, but this guy deserved her._

_The longer his hunt went on, the cozier Y/N sounded with this guy. The boys seemed to like him, and both had mentioned that they thought Nathan was sweet on her. Even though part of John wanted to rip them all away and keep Y/N for himself, he just couldn’t do that to her. He needed to let her be free to live her own life and be fucking happy. He didn’t get to be happy. She deserved better._

_He finished up his hunt as quickly as he could and hightailed it down to Texas. He sat at the traffic light next to the garage, watching as Y/N talked to some guy. When she touched him, that’s when he knew: yeah, she was sweet on him. As he parked his truck, he clutched at his chest, rubbing the ache that had appeared there._

_Through all of her arguments that night, he kept the image of her touching that guy’s face in the forefront of his mind, even though it hurt. No man wanted a woman raising some other guy’s kids. He had to take Dean and Sam and get them out of there, or she’d lose this chance at something good. As long as she was saddled with his kids, she’d never find happiness of her own, and that’s all he really wanted for her. Even if it was with some small-town mechanic who probably didn’t fully realize what he had. She deserved better than him and his cursed life._


End file.
